NOR  ALL 
YOUR  TEARS 


BY 

MAUD  H.  YARDLEY 

AUTHOR    OF    "SINLESS,"    ETC.,    ETC 


NEW    YORK 
R.   F.    FENNO    &    COMPANY 


Copyright,  1908,  by 
R.  F.  FENNO  A   COMPANY 


Nor  All  Your 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


i 


POOR  old  Jack  Drummond  dead  !  By  Jove  ! 
This  is  a  bad  business!  Dead!  And 
only  ..." 

The  speaker  paused,  and,  as  he  went  on 
reading  the  newspaper,  his  wife  looked  up  from  her 
letters,  and  tried  to  see  his  face  through  the  flowers 
which  decorated  the  centre  of  the  breakfast  table. 

"Somebody  dead,  did  you  say,  dear?  Somebody 
you  know?" 

"  Yes ;  old  Jack  Drummond.  Best  chap  that 
ever  lived.  Never  was  so  surprised  in  my  life! 
Why,  not  a  fortnight  ago  I  was  at  his  studio,  and  he 
was  as  fit  as  his  best  friend  could  wish  him  ..." 

"Oh,  you  mean  Mr  Drummond  the  portrait 
painter?  Fancy!  Poor  man!  I'm  sorry."  The 
lady's  tone  did  not  express  much  sorrow.  The  dead 
artist  was  but  a  name  to  her ;  and  just  now  she  was 
worried  over  a  dressmaker's  bill,  which  she  could 
see  no  way  of  paying. 

Her  husband  swallowed  his  coffee  rather  hurriedly, 
and  getting  up  from  the  table,  went  and  stood  by 
the  fire,  his  coat-tails  spread  apart,  and  upon  his  nice 
face  an  expression  of  keen  distress. 

"  It's  no  light  matter  for  the  child,"  he  remarked, 

I  A 


2139025 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


frowning  slightly,  as  his  wife  went  on  opening  her 
letters. 

"There  are — there  is  a  family  then?"  she  said 
absently. 

"There's  one  child — a  daughter.  I  daresay  she's 
eighteen — perhaps  a  year  or  so  more.  Poor  old 
Jack  didn't  leave  a  halfpenny,  I'll  be  bound  ;  and  I 
don't  suppose  she's  got  the  least  idea  of  doing 
anything  for  herself." 

"  I  daresay  she  has  friends  or  people,  or  some- 
thing," declared  the  lady  comfortably  and  vaguely. 
"  I  thought  portrait  painting  was  quite  profitable." 

"  It  wasn't  to  Jack.  Good  Lord  !  he  couldn't  have 
kept  a  million  if  he  had  had  it ;  and  he  never  closed 
his  hand  to  a  friend — to  a  good  many  who'll  forget 
old  debts  now,  and  him  too,  before  a  month  is  over. 
Oh,  I  suppose  he  made  plenty  of  money,  one  way 
and  another,  but  he  spent  it  a  deal  faster  than  he 
made  it.  You  met  him,  Carry " — with  a  faint  touch 
of  impatience.  The  man  was  speaking  of  a  great 
favourite,  and  it  irritated  him  to  see  how  little 
interest  his  wife  took  in  the  information  he  was 
giving  her. 

"Yes,  dear,  I  remember.  He  was  a  very  hand- 
some man,  with  merry  eyes,  and  a  good-natured 
face." 

"  He  was  one  of  the  best.  I  don't  know  when 
anybody's  death  has  come  as  such  a  shock.  I  think," 
deserting  the  fire,  "  I'll  be  off  now,  and  see  if  there  is 
anything  I  can  do  for  the  poor  child.  You — you 
wouldn't  care  to  ask  her  here  for  a  bit,  would  you, 
Carry?"  he  added  hesitatingly,  and  not  very 
hopefully. 

His  wife  put  away  the  objectionable  bill  with  a 
sigh. 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  I  don't  think  I  should.  Please  don't  think  me 
unkind  ;  but  I  find  our  own  girls  as  much  as  I  can 
manage,  dear;  and — and — well,  she's  got  someone, 
surely." 

"  As  far  as  I  know,  she's  got  a  couple  of  aunts — 
sisters  of  her  father.  How  their  mother  and  poor 
Jack's  can  have  been  the  same  woman  has  always 
been  a  puzzle  to  me.  Mind  you,  I  know  very  little  of 
them  ;  but  what  I  do  know  inclines  me  to  think  that 
their  niece  would  not  have  much  of  a  time  with  them. 
Prim,  hard,  narrow-minded  old  maids,  who " 

"  Who  would  be,  perhaps,  the  very  best  companions 
for  your  friend's  daughter.  The  life  of  absolute 
freedom  she  must  have  led — from  all  you  have  told 
me  of  her  father — is  certainly  not  good  for  any 
young  girl.  It's  one  of  the  reasons  for  my  not — 
not — wanting  to  ask  her  here." 

"  Is  it  ? "  retorted  her  husband,  hotly.  He  was 
going  to  say  something  more,  but  checked  himself, 
and  marched  out  of  the  room,  banging  the  door 
behind  him. 

It  was  striking  eleven  when  he  hailed  a  hansom, 
and  gave  the  driver  an  address  in  Chelsea ;  it  was 
fully  twenty  minutes  past  the  hour  when  he  mounted 
the  steps  of  a  house  facing  the  Embankment,  close 
to  Oakley  Street — a  house  before  the  windows  of 
which  every  blind  was  still  drawn. 

The  servant  who  admitted  him  knew  him  well. 

"  I've  only  just  heard,  Marshall,"  said  the  visitor. 
"It  was  a  terrible  surprise.  How  is  Miss  Valerie 
taking  it?" 

"Pretty  fairly,  sir.  It  was  nearly  two  weeks  ago, 
you  know,  sir;  and  at  first  I  thought  her  likely 
to  go  mad  with  grief.  But  she  nulled  round,  like 
her  own  brave  self,  sir ;  and — and — there's  been  so 

3 


NOR  ALL  YOUK  TEAES 


much  to  do,  and  things  in  that  muddle,  sir,  that 
there's  been  hardly  time  for  thought" 

"  I  understand.  Ask  your  mistress  to  see  me  now, 
Marshall.  I'll  have  a  talk  with  you  later  on." 

"  Thank  you,  sir.     Will  you  step  this  way,  please  ?" 

The  man  mounted  the  stairs,  and  the  visitor  followed. 
Presently  he  found  himself  in  the  old  familiar 
studio,  with  his  dead  friend's  daughter  coming  to 
meet  him ;  and  save  that  the  drawn  blinds  shut  out 
the  winter  sun,  that  the  girl  seemed  to  be  weighed 
down  by  her  sombre  garments,  there  was  little 
change.  Jack  Drummond's  merry  welcome  might 
have  rung  out  to  him  the  next  moment.  But 
instead  there  was  silence — the  silence  that  comes 
alone  with  death. 

"  Mr  Meredith,"  said  the  girl  gladly.  "  I  knew 
you  would  come." 

"  My  dear,  I  have  only  just  returned  to  town — 
only  picked  up  the  paper  this  morning,  to  find  an 
allusion  to — to — him,  which  told  me  the  sad  news. 
Of  course  I  came  at  once  ;  but  I  fear  I  am  very 
late,"  glancing  round  the  almost  bare  room. 
"  Valerie,  can  you  bear  to  tell  me  a  little  about  it  ? " 
leading  her  to  a  chair,  and  taking  a  seat  himself 
on  the  edge  of  a  table  near. 

"There  seems  so  little,  and  yet  so  much  to  tell," 
she  returned,  slowly. 

The  tears  were  thick  in  her  eyes,  but  they  did  not 
fall ;  her  lips  trembled  piteously,  and  her  face  looked 
very  white  against  the  black  neck-band  of  her  gown. 
But  her  voice  was  steady. 

"  It  was  all  very  sudden — terribly,  cruelly  sudden. 
He  was  taken  ill,  without  a  word  of  warning ; 
it  was  in  the  night,  and  he  hesitated  to  send  for 
me  —  to  disturb  me.  But  he  roused  Marshall, 

4 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


and  he  came  to  me.  Father  died  just  as  I  got 
to  his  room.  The  doctor  called  it  heart  failure,  and 
h/e  said  that  he  must  have  been  ailing  for  some 
time — secretly.  Oh,  does  it  seem  possible  to  you 
that  he  will  never  again  sit  in  this  room!" 

Meredith  blew  his  nose  violently  before  he 
answered. 

"It  has  completely  knocked  me  over,"  he  admitted. 

"Do  you  mind  telling  me,  my  dear,  how — how — 
matters  stand  ?  I  mean  if  you  are  at  all  provided 
for." 

"No,  there  was  nothing  left,  Mr  Meredith.  Mr 
Grattan,  the  solicitor,  you  know,  had  charge  of 
everything.  You  know,  of  course — I  suppose  you 
always  knew  ?  " 

"  Knew  what  ?  "  inquired  Meredith,  uneasily. 

"That  father  had  been — oh,  for  years  and  years 
— living  up  to  double,  treble  his  earnings.  Every- 
thing had  to  go  to  his  creditors,  Mr  Grattan  said. 
I  was  under  the  impression  that  he  had  a  private 
income,  if  only  a  small  one;  but — but — he  has  left 
simply  nothing.  You  are  not  blaming  him?" 
looking  up  quickly.  "You  are  not  thinking  that  I 
grieve  over  that  for  myself?  " 

"No — no!  I  was  thinking  that  surely  Grattan 
might  have  done  a  little  better  for  you — but  perhaps 
I  wrong  him — and  I  was  wishing  that  I  had 
known  before  everything  was  settled.  I'm  not 
surprised.  Poor  old  Jack  was  altogether  too  open- 
handed  to  leave  much ;  but  I'm  very  certain  that 
he  would  have  taken  care  to  do  something  for  you 
had  he  dreamed  of  so  early  an  end  to  his  life. 
Forgive  me  for  speaking  so  plainly.  You  are  leaving 
here?" 

"  Yes ;  at  the  end  of  the  week,"  a  little  hurriedly. 
5 


NOR  ALL  YOUK  TEAKS 


"  Will  you  tell  me,  in  the  circumstances,  what  you 
are  likely  to  do  ?  " 

The  colour  spread  quickly  over  the  girl's  face, 
and  faded  away  almostly  as  quickly ;  and  her  eyes 
were  lowered,  her  fingers  a  little  restless. 

"  I — I — have  enough  for  a  little  while.  I  suppose," 
with  a  queer  little  smile,  "  I  shall  have  to  get  some- 
thing to  do,  though  I  don't  know  what.  I  have  a 
perfect  eye  for  colour,  I  believe ; "  glancing  sadly 
at  the  corner  of  the  room,  now  deserted,  where  Jack 
Drummond  had  loved  best  to  work.  "  I  can  sing 
a  bit  and  play  a  bit ;  and  I  can  devil  kidneys,  and 
do  ceuf  &  la  cocotte  with  any  cook  in  London — but 
I  am  not  sure  that  those  are  exactly  helpful 
accomplishments." 

She  was  laughing  softly,  not  gaily,  but  in  the 
half  cynical,  half  quaintly  humorous  manner  which 
reminded  her  visitor  forcibly  of  the  dead  man, 
which  brought  to  memory  that  man's  palmy 
days,  and  the  days — many  more  of  these — when 
times  were  hard  and  funds  at  the  lowest  point ; 
when  he  had  shared  and  made  merry  over  a  crust, 
when  he  had  been  able  to  see  the  funny  side  of 
even  his  lamentable  poverty.  Those  were  days  of 
long  ago,  of  which  Valerie  could  have  but  vague 
remembrance.  The  last  few  years  had  been  years 
of  ease  and  of  luxury.  She  was  talking  about 
M  getting  something  to  do "  carelessly,  as  though  it 
were  the  simplest  matter  in  the  world  ;  and  she  was 
making  light  of  the  fact  that  she  knew  nothing  about 
work  of  any  sort,  as  though  the  few  paltry  pounds 
she  might  have  in  hand  would  last  for  ever.  It 
could  not  be  that  she  was  ignorant,  either,  of  the 
value  of  money,  or  of  the  difficulty  in  obtaining 
employment.  She  had  seen  enough  of  the  struggles 

6 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 

of  those  whom  her  father  had  often  assisted — men 
and  women,  young  and  middle-aged;  artists, 
musicians,  actors,  girls  as  young  as  herself,  who  had 
had  to  struggle  for  a  living  all  their  lives — to  make 
her  wise.  She  had  lived  from  her  babyhood  in  the 
very  cream  of  Bohemia ;  she  had  seen  many  phases 
of  life  ;  she  must  know  her  world  a  great  deal  better 
than  most  women  of  her  age ;  and  she  must  know 
that  for  a  woman  alone,  in  such  a  position  as  she 
now  found  herself,  the  way  would  be  difficult  in  the 
extreme.  It  could  not  be  that  she  was  unaware  of 
her  own  great  beauty.  Meredith  knew  well  that 
there  had  been  many  here,  in  this  very  room,  who 
would  have  told  her  of  that,  even  if  she  could  not 
have  seen  it  for  herself,  many  who  would  have 
taught  her  that  it  was  a  priceless  possession.  For 
himself,  he  had  known  her  so  long  that  in  his  eyes 
she  had  ever  been  the  child  that  he  had  first  seen 
queening  it  over  Drummond's  studio,  petted  and 
spoiled  by  everyone  who  went  there — the  child  that 
had  cost  the  mother  her  life,  that  for  a  time  left  the 
man's  heart  desolate.  But  all  too  suddenly  to-day,  it 
dawned  upon  him  that  she  was  no  longer  a  child — 
she  was  a  woman,  and  perhaps  the  loveliest  he  had 
ever  seen.  He  had  generally  found  her  skipping 
about  the  house  in  very  short  skirts  and  a  light  blue 
overall ;  with  her  hair  hanging  loose  about  her 
shoulders,  her  sweet  voice  lifted  high  in  some  merry 
chansonette  which  the  students  had  taught  her; 
and  he  had  forgotten,  as  Jack  Drummond  forgot, 
that  the  years  were  passing,  and  that  the  child  had 
become  a  woman.  Meredith  remembered  now,  with 
a  slight  shock.  He  realised  that  she  was  alone  and 
unprotected,  and  he  grew  vaguely  fearful.  He 
wished  he  had  some  woman  friend  whom  he  could 

7 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


send  to  her ;  he  felt  that  the  very  least  he  could  do 
for  his  old  friend's  daughter  would  be  to  take  her 
to  his  own  home.  But  he  remembered,  too,  his  wife's 
words  spoken  only  this  morning,  and  a  slight  flush, 
born  partly  of  annoyance,  went  over  his  kindly 
face.  He  was  glad  that  the  lowered  blinds  darkened 
the  room,  he  was  glad  that  someone  had  even  pulled 
across  the  ceiling  the  strip  of  green  that  covered  the 
skylight ;  and  he  was  still  more  glad  that  the  girl 
was  evidently  unconscious  of  his  embarrassment 

"There — there  are  your  aunts — your  father's 
sisters,"  he  suggested,  not  very  hopefully ;  and  he 
saw  that  the  colour  deepened  again  in  her  cheeks. 

"  I  know,"  she  returned,  getting  up  and  taking  a 
few  turns  up  and  down  the  long  room.  "  They  have 
written  to  me.  Mr  Grattan  must  have  told  them, 
because  I  did  not  remember  even  where  they  lived." 

"  And  they  have  asked  you  to  go  to  them  ?  I 
am  glad  of  that  It  is  quite  the  best  thing  that  even 
I  can  think  of  at  the  moment.  After  a  little  while 
I  must  talk  it  over  with  some  of  the  old  friends,  and 
see  what  can  be  done." 

She  thanked  him  with  a  little  grateful  smile,  but 
it  struck  him  that  she  seemed  curiously  uninterested 
in  her  future.  She  was  nervously  moving  the  fringe 
of  a  rug  with  her  foot,  and  she  was  silent 

"You  must  not  let  anything  your  father  may 
have  said  prejudice  you  against  them,  you  know. 
They  are  most  admirable  ladies,  I  know;  but  of 
course  their  lives  are  a  bit  narrow,  and  they  could 
never  quite  understand  poor  old  Jack's  mode  of  life." 

"No,"  she  said.  Then  suddenly  she  looked  up 
at  him. 

"Dear  Mr  Meredith,  you  are  more  than  good — I 
know  you  are  sorry  for  and  anxious  about  me ;  but 

9 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


don't  be.  I — I — shall  let  you  hear  of  me  soon — and 
what  I  am  doing;  and  thank  you  more  than  I  can 
say  for  coming." 

Sweetly,  gratefully  as  the  words  were  spoken, 
Meredith  could  not  help  taking  them  as  a  dismissal. 
He  found  himself  bending  over  her  hands,  assuring 
her  that  his  friendship  would  be  hers  always,  and 
begging  her  not  to  hesitate  to  write  to  him  if  at  any 
time  he  could  help  her. 

Then  he  was  gone,  forgetting  even  the  little  talk 
he  had  promised  himself  with  Marshall,  the  old 
servant 

And  once  out  in  the  street,  he  brought  his  brows 
together  in  a  frown,  and  gave  vent  to  a  prolonged, 
soft  whistle. 

"  1  haven't  seen  her  for  a  month  or  two,  and  I'll 
be  hanged  if  I'd  have  known  her  in  the  street  I 
expected  to  find  a  helpless  child  ready  to  be  led  by 
the  hand,  and  I  find  a  self-possessed  woman  who 
receives  me  like  a  young  duchess,  who's  practically 
alone  in  the  world,  homeless  and  penniless,  and  who 
can  afford  to  look  out  at  the  future  with  a  laugh !  It 
isn't  possible  that  she's  got  anything  up  her  sleeve ; 

it  isn't  possible  that "  But  he  refused  to  frame 

even  the  thought,  and  turned  sharply  on  his  heel, 
ashamed  of  it 


NOR  ALL  YOUK  TEARS 


II 


IT  was  bitterly  cold,  even  for  January ;  a  high 
wind  swept  round  the  houses,  and  lashed  the 
river  from  its  sullen,  brown  quiet  to  angry 
restlessness.  The  snow  fell  heavily  at  intervals  ; 
the  lights  twinkled  but  dimly  on  the  Embankment 

Valerie  Drummond  watched  them  listlessly  while 
she  stood  at  the  open  hall  door,  listening  to  Marshall 
whistling  repeatedly  and  ineffectually  for  a  cab.  She 
had  waited  in  the  dreary  dining-room,  and  the  still 
more  dreary  drawing-room,  in  the  hall,  and  on  the 
stairs ;  and  now  she  went  out  on  to  the  steps,  glad 
to  leave  the  gloomy  house  at  the  back  of  her,  thinking 
the  moaning  wind,  and  the  great  snow-flakes,  and 
the  cold,  dark  river,  more  cheerful  to  look  upon  than 
the  deserted  rooms,  that  were  already  stripped  of 
most  of  their  belongings,  feeling  less  the  chill  of 
the  keen  winter  air  than  the  chill  of  death,  that 
seemed  to  hang  over  every  corner  of  the  house. 

There  was  restlessness,  anxiety  upon  her,  wholly 
new.  There  was  an  expression  of  mingled  half  fear 
and  desperation  in  her  eyes,  that  had  lost  all  their 
merriment ;  there  was  a  ring  of  impatience,  of  even 
irritability,  in  her  low,  pretty  voice,  that  not  one  of  her 
servants  had  ever  heard  before,  that  made  Marshall 
look  up  at  her  sharply  from  his  position  on  the  lowest 
step,  as  she  spoke  now. 

"  What  is  the  use  of  waiting  there  ?  Why  don't 
you  go  down  to  the  stand  ?  You  might  whistle  for 

10 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


an  hour  and  not  be  heard  in  this  gale  ! "  Her  words 
scarcely  reached  him,  but  the  sharpness  of  the  tone 
penetrated  even  the  howl  of  the  wind.  And  at  that 
moment  a  hansom  drew  up  at  the  kerb,  the  horse 
plunging  beneath  a  swift  stroke  from  the  whip,  the 
lights  behind  half-red  lamps  shining  cheerily  out  of 
the  gloom. 

"  Can't  hear  nothing,  lady,  but  'appened  to  see 
you,"  cabby  volunteered,  while  Valerie  settled 
herself,  and  Marshall  closed  the  doors,  and  waited 
for  directions,  which  his  mistress  seemed  to  have 
entirely  forgotten. 

"Shall  I  tell  him  where  to,  Miss?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  Eaton  Square."  It  was  not  a  very 
clear  direction,  but  the  horse  was  whisked  smartly 
about,  the  unnecessary  whip  came  down  again,  and 
Marshall  was  left  on  the  pavement  staring  at  nothing, 
a  little  wonderingly. 

When  she  was  well  away  from  her  own  door,  Miss 
Drummond  put  up  the  trap.  "  Go  to  Knightsbridge," 
she  said.  "  I  will  tell  you  when  I  want  to  stop ; 
and  please  leave  off  whipping  that  horse." 

"  Very  good,  lady."  And  cabby  dropped  the  trap, 
put  the  whip  in  the  socket,  and  let  a  grin  widen  his 
mouth. 

"  Her  best  boy's  put  her  out ! "  he  remarked  to 
himself,  and  took  to  a  narrow  street  which  led  to 
a  short  cut  to  Knightsbridge. 

Arrived  there,  he  was  brought  to  a  sudden  halt  by 
the  re-opening  of  the  trap.  The  girl  was  already  on 
the  step,  and  when  she  had  paid  him  double  his  fare, 
he  watched  her  gather  her  skirts  more  closely  about 
her,  and  disappear  into  the  darkness.  She  went  on 
her  way  with  certain  steps,  as  over  very  familiar  ground ; 
no  one  heeded  her,  and  she  heeded  none.  The  traffic 

IX 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


was  pressing,  but  she  threaded  her  way  through  it 
with  ease  and  a  touch  of  recklessness.  Presently 
she  passed  under  a  narrow  archway,  into  a  courtyard, 
where  the  lights  burned  so  dimly  that  it  was  almost 
in  darkness;  but  her  step  was  as  sure  here  as  it  had 
been  in  the  street,  and  she  turned  swiftly  through  one 
of  the  three  doors  which  stood  open  on  the  right 
Beyond,  a  porter  threw  open  glass  doors  to  her;  he 
would  have  escorted  her  to  the  lift,  but  she  shook 
her  head,  and  ran  lightly  up  the  stairs.  At  the  top 
of  the  first  landing  she  paused,  pressed  her  finger 
upon  an  electric  bell,  and,  a  moment  later,  passed  into 
a  warm,  brilliantly  lighted,  luxuriously  furnished  hall. 

"  Mr  Brabazon  is  at  home,"  she  said,  with  more  of 
assertion  than  question  in  her  tone. 

The  man,  who  had  been  somewhat  taken  by 
surprise  at  her  quiet,  determined  entrance,  closed 
the  door  softly. 

"  Mr  Brabazon  is  at  home,  madam  ;  but n 

"Tell  him,  please."  He  did  not  ask  her  name. 
Perhaps  he  knew  instinctively  that  she  would  not 
tell  him;  and  he  remembered  that  if  she  did,  he 
would  have  to  carry  it  into  the  dining-room,  where 
his  master  was  entertaining  half  a  dozen  men  at 
dinner.  He  knew  his  business,  and  that  master's 
ways,  a  great  deal  too  well  for  such  a  false  step. 

He  ushered  her  into  a  small  room,  moved  a  big 
chair  a  little  nearer  to  the  fire,  and  then  left  her, 
letting  fall  the  curtains  over  the  door,  which  he 
closed. 

In  the  dining-room  he  went  silently  over  to  his 
master's  chair,  and,  standing  well  behind  it,  whispered 
a  few  words  very  softly,  and  with  a  low  bow,  in 
his  ear. 

Cuthbert  Brabazon  turned  round  with  a  start ;  he 
za 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


leant  back  and  asked  some  question,  which  the 
servant  evidently  answered  satisfactorily.  Then  he 
muttered  something  which  sounded  like  "  The  devil ! " 
and  five  minutes  later  begged  his  friends  to  excuse 
him. 

When  he  reached  the  room  where  Valerie 
Drummond  was  waiting  for  him,  he  found  her 
walking  about  rather  impatiently. 

"  My  dearest  little  girl,"  he  said,  drawing  her  near 
to  him  by  both  her  hands,  "  this  is  a  surprise  indeed. 
But  why  didn't  you  wire  or  telephone  ?  I  might  not 
have  been  here  ;  and,  as  it  is,  there  are  some  men 
dining  with  me  .  .  .  but  there,  at  the  sight  of  you 
I  forget  everything!  What  a  delicious  morsel  of 
loveliness  it  is  1 "  he  added  softly,  unfastening  her 
furs  with  practised  fingers,  and  removing  her  hat  as 
neatly  as  she  could  have  removed  it  herself.  He 
tossed  it  on  to  a  chair,  and  the  furs  after  it ;  and 
then,  with  a  sigh  of  momentary,  keen  satisfaction, 
took  her  into  his  arms. 

"I'm  famished  for  a  kiss — it's  six  weeks  since  I've 
had  one — since  I've  even  seen  you,"  he  declared, 
bending  his  face  down  till  there  was  not  an  inch 
between  it  and  hers,  and  letting  his  eyes,  that  held 
a  light  of  weariness  always,  wander  over  the 
exquisite  beauty  of  her  face,  while,  with  their  glance 
meeting  hers,  he  called  to  life  the  sweet  rose-colour 
in  her  cheeks.  She  rested  against  him  with  a  sense 
of  half  fear,  half  content,  but  she  put  up  her  hand 
between  his  lips  and  hers. 

"What  is  that  for?"  he  asked,  vexedly.  "Oh,  I 
suppose  I  know!  But  you  are  not  going  to  be 
foolish  about  a  few  unanswered  letters,  Val?  You 
know  that  if  I  did  not  write  it  was  because  writing 
was  an  impossibility ;  you  know  always,  that  if  you 


NOB  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


don't  hear,  if  you  don't  see  me,  that  there  are — that 
I  can  satisfy  you  there  are  good  reasons.  I  haven't 
touched  town  till  this  very  afternoon." 

"  Have  you  not  read  the  papers  ?  Have  you  heard 
nothing  while  you  were  away?"  she  asked,  and  in 
her  voice  there  was  already,  before  he  answered,  a 
sound  of  polite  disbelief. 

He  released  her  from  his  hold  ;  his  face  took  on 
that  wearied  expression  which  had  struck  a  chill  of 
dread  to  many  a  heart  far  older,  far  wiser  than  hers, 
and  he  threw  himself  down  on  the  arm  of  a  chair, 
with  a  sigh  that  was  half  hopeless,  wholly  disappointed. 

She  might  have  been  a  child  whom  he  meant  to 
leave  to  get  over  a  fit  of  temper  before  he  spoke 
again ;  and  while  he  kept  silence,  he  looked  towards 
the  door,  as  though  to  remind  her  that  there  were 
guests  in  another  room  awaiting  his  return. 

"  If  you  have  not  read — if  you  have  heard  nothing," 
she  said,  "  then  forgive  me — I  wronged  you  !  You 
do  not  know  ..."  A  choking  lump  rose  in  her 
throat,  stifling  the  words ;  and  her  eyes  went  from 
his  to  the  long  folds  of  black,  fine  cloth  which  clung 
softly  to  her  graceful  form.  In  one  moment  the 
truth  seemed  to  flash  upon  him,  in  one  moment 
a  thousand  thoughts — mostly  uncomfortable  ones — 
seemed  to  whirl  themselves  through  his  mind.  He 
understood  the  meaning  of  her  visit,  and  with  the 
understanding  there  came  a  sense  of  undefined  half 
resentment 

"  You  mean  ! "  he  exclaimed,  springing  to  his  feet 
"  Val !  you  can't  mean  that  ..." 

"I  mean  that  he  is  dead — father!  He  died 
suddenly,  a  fortnight  ago.  I  thought  it  could  not 
be  possible  that  you  had  not  heard  ;  and  oh,  your 
silence  nearly  broke  my  heart" 

14 


NOK  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  Good  heavens !  Poor  little  girl !  What  a  brute 
you  must  have  been  thinking  me !  I  swear  to  you 
I  never  heard  a  word  about  it  That  is  why," 
with  faint  uneasiness  that  she  was  quick  to  detect, 
"you — you — came  here  to-night?"  His  face  had 
gone  very  white,  his  eyes,  usually  so  tired,  lost  their 
languor ;  they  travelled  restlessly  over  her  sombre 
gown,  from  the  edge  of  black  fox  fur  at  her  feet  to 
the  bit  of  transparent,  filmy  lace  stretched  across  her 
chest,  in  a  half  bewildered  way.  Then  they  went  to 
her  face,  to  the  softly  rounded  chin,  to  the  milky 
whiteness  of  her  cheeks,  to  the  curves  of  her  rich 
lips,  to  the  little  straight  nose  and  the  heavily  fringed 
eyes,  puzzling  in  colour,  and  for  that  reason  doubly 
attractive,  half  shy,  and  even  when  they  were  merry, 
looking  at  one  as  though  always  through  a  tear. 
And  because  he  never  attempted  to  resist  beauty, 
and  hers  had  appealed  to  him  as  the  beauty  of 
woman  had  never  appealed  to  him  yet,  he  held  her 
close  to  him  once  more,  and  took  the  kiss  which, 
just  now,  she  had  refused  him. 

"You  can  understand  my  anxiety,"  she  said 
swiftly,  trying  to  read  his  eyes.  "You  can  realise 
what  it  was  to  me  when  there  was  no  word  from  you 
— no  sign  ;  when  you  never  came " 

"  But,  my  dear " 

M I  know  now — I  understand — at  least  I  try  to ; 
and  I  could  not  know  the  reason  for  your  silence; 
I — there  was  none  to  tell  me — none  I  could  ask," 

Brabazon  breathed  a  slight  sigh  of  relief  and 
gratitude. 

"  And  you  came  here  to-night,"  he  repeated,  with 
that  new  anxiety  in  his  voice,  as  though  he  feared 
to  hear  her  reason,  and  yet  could  not  rest  till  it  came 
to  him  from  her  own  lips. 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"Because  I  could  endure  the  suspense  no  longer! 
Because  the  days  and  the  nights  were  torture — torture 
of  wonder  and  misery  and  doubt  that  I  would  not 
harbour.  Because  I  had  lost  all,  and  there  was  only 
you  left  Is  it  so  wonderful?  Is  it  so  surprising? 
Is  it  not — not — natural  that  I  should  have  come  to 
you — to  you,"  colouring  faintly,  "to  whom  alone  I 
have  the  right  to  come  ?  " 

His  hold  upon  her  grew  loose.  He  drew  forward 
a  chair  and  put  her  gently  into  it,  and  stood  with 
his  arm  on  the  edge  of  the  mantelpiece  and  his  eyes 
on  the  hearthrug. 

"  It  isn't  surprising  or  wonderful,"  he  admitted, 
uneasily.  "Only  it — it — happens  to  be  deuced 
awkward  at  this  moment " 

"You  mean  my  being  here — because  of — of — 
those  men  in  the  other  room  ?  " 

"No;  they  don't  count — they  won't  be  the  wiser. 
I  meant  that  it  is  rough  on  you — left  quite  alone — 
and — and — when — I " 

"  Alone  I "  She  seemed  to  catch  at  the  word  and 
hold  it,  remembering  only  its  meaning  for  her. 
"  Why  do  you  say  that  to  me  ?  I  shall  never  cease 
to  miss  father,  but  I  can  never  be  quite  alone  while 
I  have  you." 

Brabazon  was  trying  to  dig  lumps  of  fur  out  of 
the  rug  with  his  heel ;  he  seemed  to  have  some 
difficulty  in  framing  his  next  words.  They  came 
with  a  rush  at  last 

"And  I'm  a  prize,  little  girl,  that  I  am  afraid 
circumstances  will  forbid  you  laying  claim  to,"  he 
said.  The  slight  laugh  which  accompanied  the 
words  was  forced,  it  rung  very  false ;  but  it  was  only 
when,  at  last,  his  eyes  met  hers  that  something  of 
the  meaning  of  it  came  to  her.  She  got  up  from 

16 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


her  chair  swiftly ;  her  limbs  trembled  beneath  her, 
a  shudder  as  of  cold  passed  over  her  body. 

"Look  here,  Val,"  he  said  hastily,  "you  mustn't 
take  it  badly ;  you  must  try,  for  both  our  sakes,  to 
be  reasonable,  sensible.  There  is  something  I  ought 
to  have  told  you  long  ago,  but  it  would  not  come 
easily.  It  might  have  put  an  end  to  many  happy 
hours  for  you  and  me.  Frankly,  I  had  not  the 
courage — I  dared  not  risk  losing  you  ..." 

"  Don't  say  it ! "  she  interrupted,  a  little  wildly, 
putting  up  her  hands  and  shrinking  as  if  from  a  blow, 
"  Do  not  say  it !  I  know  what  it  is — I  can  tell  you  ! 
You — you — don't  care  any  more — you — oh,  my 
God ! "  as  he  still  kept  his  position  by  the  mantel- 
piece, as  he  was  silent  instead  of  contradicting  her. 
"  And  I — I — came  here  to  you  .  .  .  ** 

"You  don't  give  me  a  chance  to  explain — you 
jump  to  the  conclusion,  woman-like,  that  I  have 
ceased  to  care,  that  I  have  tired  of  you,  before  I  say 
a  word.  You  are  utterly  and  entirely  wrong." 

At  his  words  the  horror  died  out  of  her  eyes ;  she 
went  nearer  to  him,  and  clasped  her  hands  on  his 
arm.  And  while  he  smoothed  them  lightly,  he 
repeated — "  You  are  utterly  and  entirely  wrong,  Val. 
I  have  loved  you  more  than  I  have  ever  loved  any 
woman  in  my  life — more,  very  likely,  than  I  shall 
ever  love  another.  We've  been  very  happy,  Val — I 
wish,"  restlessly,  "  I  had  told  you  the  truth  before, 
or  that,  at  any  rate,  I  had  not  been  obliged — it  need 
not  have  come  out  at  the  moment  when  you  were 
full  of  grief  for — his  loss  .  .  .  too."  The  "  too  "  was 
characteristic  of  the  speaker ;  and  it  was  the  one 
word  that  the  woman  heard  distinctly.  It  seemed  to 
be  hurled  at  her,  to  prepare  her  for  anything.  The 
little  chill  feeling  came  back  to  her  heart ;  and  her 

17  • 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


hands,  that  had  been  clasped  tightly  on  his  arm,  fell 
limply  to  her  sides. 

"  Go  on,"  she  said.  "  Tell  me  the  truth  now — tell 
me  what  your  words  mean." 

"That  if — if — things  were  different  I  could  do  as 
I  pleased;  but  I  am  not  my  own  master — I 
cannot " 

"  It  was  for  that  reason,"  she  interrupted  very 
slowly,  very  quietly,  while  her  eyes  never  left  his 
face,  and  the  colour  seemed  as  though  it  would  never 
return  to  hers,  "  that  you  bade  me  keep  our — friend- 
ship a  secret,  that  you  said — our  marriage — when  the 
time  came — would  have  to  be  a  secret  too." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  drew  a  little  on  my  imagination, 
Val.  The  fact  is — er — you  were  a  tremendously 
proud  little  girl  in — in — many  ways  ;  and  if  I  had 
not  led  you  to  believe  that  marriage  was  to  be  the — 
er — ultimate  result  of  our — our  intimacy,  why,  you'd 
have  given  me  the  cold  shoulder  in  no  time !  It's  no 
use  beating  about  the  bush  now,"  he  went  on,  with  a 
touch  of  desperation  in  his  voice,  but  never  once 
daring  to  meet  the  eyes  that  he  could  feel  were  fixed 
upon  him.  "  It's  no  use  my  pretending  to  talk  to 
you  as  though  you  were  a  little  innocent  bread  and 
butter  miss,  just  out  of  school.  We've  been  more 
than  a  good  deal  in  each  others'  lives  in  this  past 
year,  Val ;  we've  been  all  that  a  man  and  a  woman 
who  love  can  be  to  each  other.  And  if — I — I — chose 
to  play  a  slight  part,  by  way  of  putting  matters  on  a 
more — on  a  straighter  footing — if  I  sought  to  ease 
your  conscience  by  inventing  adamantine,  property- 
holding  relatives,  who  would  take  a  deal  of  propiti- 
ating, I  never  honestly  supposed — I  don't  suppose 
now — that  you  seriously  believed  in  it  Oh,  hang  it," 
he  added,  with  the  old  bored  look  coming  into  his 

18 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


eyes.  "  You  make  it  infernally  hard  to  say !  You 
stand  there  and  make  a  fellow  feel  that  you  are 
landing  him  at  the  North  Pole  with  your  eyes  ...  I 
have  been — I  am — awfully  fond  of  you  !  You  must 
let  me  do  all  I  can — I'll  do  every  mortal  thing  I  can 
for  you  ;  but — but  the  news  of  your  father's  death 
has — well,  it  has  altered  things  in  an  amazing  way. 
It  has  brought  you  here  to  me — very  naturally — it 
has  suggested  to  you  the  moment  for  the  fulfilment 
of  a  promise  which,  as  I  say,"  with  another  forced 
laugh,  "we  both  played  with,  with  which  we  both 
excused  ..." 

She  silenced  him  with  a  gesture,  too  peremptory 
to  disobey.  "And  I  came  to  you  here — I  came  to 
you — believing  in  you !  "  She  was  rather  moaning 
again,  softly,  than  saying  across  his  hurried  words, 
that  he  was  trying  to  make  sound  easy.  "  I  came 
to  you — my  God  !  sure  of  your  love,  certain  of  your 
welcome,  confident  of  your  care ! " 

The  blood  burned  hot  in  her  face  now ;  it  was  her 
eyes  which  were  lowered,  not  his.  The  fact  encour- 
aged Brabazon  to  continue  with  his  rapid  speech, 
that  held  a  half  explanatory,  half  persuasive  tone. 

"  Be  reasonable,  Val !  Why  make  such  a  tragedy 
out  of  really  very  little?  I'd  reckoned  on  things 
going  on  much  as  they  were  for  a  good  while  to 
come  (you'll  admit  that  I  couldn't  be  prepared  for 
the  death  that  means  such  a  loss  to  you) ;  and,  upon 
my  soul,  I  don't  see  why  everything  should  not  be 
all  right,  why  you  should  not  be  absolutely  happy 
with  me  now,  if  you'd  only  be  a  reasonable  little  girl, 
and  if  you  would  not  kick  at  being  kept  in  the  back- 
ground for  a  time," 

She  was  so  silent,  so  still — there  was  no  sign  even 
that  she  breathed,  but  the  slight  stirring  of  the  laces 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


at  her  breast — that  Brabazon  looked  up  sharply.  He 
caught  the  full  glance  of  her  eyes,  and  at  something 
in  them  his  face  took  on  a  tinge  of  shamed, 
dusky  red. 

"  Need  you  say  any  more  ? "  Valerie  asked  in  a 
voice  from  which  all  the  life  had  gone,  and  in  which 
only  a  chill  remained.  "  Must  you  make  matters 
worse?  Can't  you  let  me  go  without  making  me 
despise  myself — more?  I  understand  everything 
you  have  said,  and  all  you  have  left  unsaid ! " 
She  was  putting  on  her  hat  while  she  spoke; 
as  she  took  up  her  furs,  Brabazon  instinctively 
placed  them  on  her  shoulders,  without  really  knowing 
what  he  was  doing.  He  knew  that  she  was  going, 
and  he  could  not  frame  any  words  to  detain  her — he 
was  not  altogether  sure  that  he  really  wished  to 
detain  her.  "  Will  you  please  remember  that  I 
blame  myself  so  much  that  I  can  only  blame  you 
very  little.  I  suppose  I  may  rely  upon  you  to  forget 
that  I — I — ever  entered  these  doors — that  we  ever 
met?" 

She  spoke  like  one  repeating  a  lesson  ;  she  walked 
like  a  woman  in  her  sleep.  She  pulled  aside  the 
portiere.  The  action  roused  Brabazon,  and  he 
stretched  out  a  quick  hand  and  drew  her  back. 

M  Don't  be  a  little  fool,  Val! "  he  said,  the  moment- 
ary, rare  shame  that  had  overwhelmed  him  fading 
away,  and  a  certain  anger  taking  its  place.  "You 
think  you  understand  all  I  have  left  unsaid,  but  you 
do  not.  I'd  like  to  have  avoided  saying  it,  but  you 
make  me.  You  think  that  I'm — I'm  backing  out  of 
our  marriage,  now  that  your  father  is  dead,  and 
because  I'm  tired  of  you.  And  you're  utterly  wrong ! 
You  must  have  known  a  little  how  the  land  lay,  all 
along,  say  what  you  will.  You  must  have  seen  that 

ao 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


I  played  my  part,  and  let  you  play  one,  simply  that 
you  might  fancy  your  conscience  more  clear.  Young 
as  you  are — with  the  absolute  freedom  that  has 
marked  your  whole  life,  you  have  seen  twice  as  much 
of  the  world  as  nine  out  of  ten  of  any  other  women 
of  your  years ;  and  you  must  have  let  me  lead  you 
with  your  eyes  wide  open.  If  you  only  take  the 
goods  the  gods  provide,  like  a  sensible  little  woman, 
you'd  have  a  much  better  time  of  it  in  the  long  run. 
I'll  tell  you  one  thing,"  keeping  his  hand  firmly  on 
her  arm,  and  speaking  confidentially  and  a  little 
wearily,  "  and  it's  more  than  I  could  say  to  any  other 
woman  alive ! — I'd  marry  you  to-morrow,  like  a  shot, 
if  I  did  not  think  marriage  the  most  rotten  institution 
ever  invented,  and  if  I  were  free  to  do  as  I  chose. 
But — you  may  as  well  hear  it  now  as  at  any  other 
time — the  question  of  marriage  was  settled  for  me 
long  ago — long  before  I  met  you,  in  fact  seven  years 
before  that  My  dear  little  girl,"  releasing  her  arm, 
and  stretching  both  his  own  above  his  head  with  a 
movement  of  utter  boredom,  "if  you  had  not  been 
the  most  charming  of  wild  flowers,  in  a  world  not 
mine,  I  should  never  have  looked  at  you — and  you 
would  have  heard  long  ago  that  I've  got  a  wife  already 
— a  pattern  of  all  the  virtues,"  with  a  sneering  laugh, 
M  a  most  amiable  young  party,  who  loves  me  about  as 
much  as  I  love  her,  but  who  is  good  enough  to  keep 
out  of  my  way  all  she  can !  There,  that  is  the  truth 
— which  you  insisted  upon  hearing !  Nothing  very 
tragic  or  uncommon,  is  it?  And  if  I'd  told  you 
before,  we  shouldn't  have  had  this  year  of  ..." 

A  little  stifled  cry  checked  his  speech.  The 
woman's  hands  had  gone  out  before  her  as  though  to 
implore  silence ;  she  leant  heavily  against  the  back 
of  a  chair,  striving  to  gather  strength  before  she  tried 

21 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


to  walk  to  the  curtains,  upon  which  her  eyes  were 
fixed. 

At  that  moment,  from  the  dining-room,  there  came 
an  uproarious  burst  of  laughter. 

"  I'd  forgotten  them,"  declared  Brabazon,  with 
uneasy  eyes  turning  towards  the  door.  "  They  were 
pretty  far  gone  when  I  left  them,  and  they're  capable 
of  hunting  us  out !  Listen,  Val — I'll  drop  you  a  line 
to-night,  when  they  are  gone — I'll  come  over  in  the 

morning — or  I'll " 

Another  shout  of  laughter,  Brabazon's  name 
called  loudly  from  a  very  little  distance,  roused 
Valerie  from  a  sort  of  stupor,  from  sudden  numb- 
ness which  she  had  been  trying  to  shake  off. 
She  did  not  speak  a  word.  He  was  doubtful 
if  she  had  even  heard  what  he  said.  She  groped  her 
way  through  the  portiere  which  he  held  back ; 
dimly  she  saw  the  servant  waiting  in  the  hall,  and 
that,  at  a  sign  from  Brabazon,  he  held  the  door  wide 
open,  quickly.  Then  there  was  another  burst  of 
laughter,  the  same  voice  calling — 

"Brabazon!  Where  are  you?  What  the  devil 
are  you  doing  all  this  time?  I'm  coming  to  look 
for  you  1 "  And  then,  close  to  her  horrified  ear — 

"Oh I    My  auntl    A  PETTICOAT  I" 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


III 

HOW      she     reached     the     street     Valerie 
Drummond    never   quite  knew.     As    she 
crossed  the  road,  one  motor  had  to  swerve 
out  of  her  way  so  sharply  that  it  almost 
struck   the  side  of  an   omnibus ;    and  a  cab  driver 
pulled  his  horse  on  to  its  haunches  with  a  savage  and 
outspoken   oath ;    and   in  the  centre   of  the   road  a 
policeman  took  her  by  the  arm,  with  a  half  suspicious 
look  in  his  eyes. 

"Was  you  tryin'  to  get  run  over,  lady?"  he 
inquired,  searching  her  little  livid  face  curiously. 

"Thank  you,"  returned  Valerie,  vaguely.  "Will 
you  call  me  a  cab,  please  ?  " 

There  was  a  moment's  wait,  and  then  she  was 
giving  the  address,  which  the  policeman  repeated, 
thanking  him  again,  and  being  driven  towards  her 
own  home. 

Arrived  there,  she  mounted  the  steps  a  little 
unsteadily.  But  the  chill  gloominess  of  the  half 
lighted  hall  did  not  strike  her,  as  it  had  struck  her 
when  she  came  out :  what  was  the  misery  of  a  half 
empty  house  beside  the  misery  of  her  entirely  empty 
life,  that  all  at  once  had  grown  so  useless  to  her? 
She  had  felt  loneliness,  but  loneliness  tempered  by 
the  certainty  of  comfort  not  far  off;  now  there  was  a 
sense  of  utter  desolation  upon  her. 

"  I  sent  some  supper  to  your  room,  Miss,"  Marshall 
said,  looking  a  little  anxiously  into  her  face; 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  Thank  you.  Tell  Catherine  I  shall  not  want  her, 
please.  Good-night."  She  went  very  slowly  up  the 
stairs ;  she  had  passed  the  room  where  her  father 
died,  with  a  shudder,  ever  since  she  had  seen  him 
taken  from  it, — now  she  put  her  hands  before  her 
eyes  and  hurried  by.  A  large  fire  burned  in  her  bed- 
room, her  slippers  were  by  the  fender,  and  a  loose 
wrapper  hung  over  the  back  of  a  chair.  There  was 
every  sign  of  comfort,  but  Valerie  did  not  notice. 
She  only  knew  that  the  blinds  were  closely  drawn 
that  no  eye  could  see  her ;  and  was  grateful  accord- 
ingly. Mechanically  she  went  about  undressing,  as 
mechanically  she  put  her  bare  feet  into  the  warmed 
slippers,  and  threw  the  loose  gown  round  her.  Then 
she  sat  down  by  the  glowing  fire,  and  stared  into  its 
heart.  By  degrees  the  warmth  comforted  her  a  little  ; 
her  chilled,  trembling  hands  lay  still,  her  mind 
became  more  clear.  She  was  able  to  go  over  the 
events  of  the  day.  She  remembered  Meredith's  visit, 
his  kindness,  his  desire  to  help  her ;  and,  with  a  throb 
of  passionate  gladness,  she  remembered,  too,  that  she 
had  refrained  from  saying  to  him  words  that  were  on 
the  tip  of  her  tongue,  refrained  from  telling  him  that 
he  need  have  no  anxiety  about  her  future,  from  letting 
him  know  that  she  had  no  fear  for  it.  Because  he 
was  so  genuinely  sorry  for  her,  the  temptation  had 
assailed  her  to  partially  confide  in  him  ;  but  she  had 
put  it  aside — she  had  feared  question.  Now,  she 
thanked  heaven  in  her  soul  for  that  fear,  anything, 
that  had  held  her  silent  She  went  over  every  little 
trivial  thing  she  had  done  through  the  day,  over  her 
secret  anxiety,  over  her  weary  waiting  for  the 
appearance  of  Marshall  with  a  letter,  a  telegram, 
which  would  bear  Brabazon's  name  ;  for  the  sound  of 
the  telephone  bell,  and,  after  it,  Brabazon's  voice  from 

»4 


NOR  ALL  YOUR,  TEAES 


afar  off.  She  went  over  all  the  worry,  all  the  fear,  all 
the  haunting  doubt  of  the  last  fortnight,  the  anxiety 
and  the  intolerable  suspense  which  had  led  up  to  her 
going  to  Brabazon's  rooms  to-night.  A  great  scorch- 
ing wave  of  crimson  spread  over  her  face  and  lingered 
there  for  a  long  minute.  Even  though  she  was  quite 
alone,  she  shut  her  eyes  and  put  her  hands  over  her 
ears,  as  though  to  shut  out  the  sight  of  his  face,  to 
deaden  the  sound  of  his  voice,  half  passionate,  half 
angry,  wholly  full  of  a  nameless  power  over  her.  She 
went  over  the  past  year,  then  ;  and  with  memory,  she 
went  hot  and  cold  by  turns.  Every  drop  of  blood 
seemed  to  ebb  slowly  from  her  heart,  and  to  leave  her 
with  a  feeling  of  sick  faintness  that  partly  robbed  her 
of  her  senses.  Anger,  regret,  self-contempt,  were  all 
swallowed  up  in  unbounded  humiliation,  in  an  agony 
of  shame  from  which,  she  thought,  at  this  moment, 
she  could  never  recover,  through  all  of  which  she 
realised  that  the  most  poignant  grief  was  hers  this 
night.  A  sort  of  soul  panic  took  possession  of  her. 

What  a  fool — what  a  senseless,  confiding  fool  she 
had  been !  It  was  all  her  fault — all !  In  all  the 
world,  was  there  a  woman  who  had  been  offered 
deadlier  insult,  who  had  been  more  cruelly  deceived 
and  humiliated?  The  thought  stung  her  to  life. 
With  a  movement  of  fierce  anger,  she  sprang  to  her 
feet,  and  pushing  first  one  chair  and  then  another  out 
of  her  way,  fell  to  pacing  the  room  with  rapid  steps. 
The  lace  of  her  gown  caught  in  the  handles  of  the 
toilet-table  drawers,  and  she  tore  it  away  with  violence 
that  worked  its  utter  destruction ;  her  eyes  fell  upon 
the  daintily  spread  tray,  and  she  thrust  it  from  her 
with  a  movement  of  disgust 

There  was  no  present  —  there  was  no  future ! 
There  was  only  the  hideous  past,  that  had  begun  a 

25 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


year  ago,  and  that  had  ended  to-night — not  an  hour 
ago! 

She  walked  from  one  side  of  the  room  to  the  other 
till  her  limbs  shook  with  weariness,  till  the  clock 
struck  out  the  small  hours  of  a  new  morning,  till  the 
fire  died  away  from  glowing  red  to  dull,  dead  grey. 
From  every  corner  she  seemed  to  see  mocking  faces, 
to  hear  mocking  voices.  For  a  little  while  her  mind 
seemed  to  be  a  blank ;  and  when  it  was  not  blank  it 
was  a  blind  tangle.  By  and  by  she  heard  signs  of 
life  about  the  house,  and  knew  that  another  day  had 
well  begun.  From  outside  there  came  to  her  the 
clatter  of  early  milk  carts,  the  footsteps  of  people  on 
their  way  to  the  day's  work.  From  inside  there  was 
the  rattle  of  a  pail,  the  swish  of  a  broom.  They 
reminded  her  that "  life  was  going  on  just  the  same, 
that  the  world  had  not  stood  still  because  she  had 
been  humbled  in  the  dust.  Life  was  going  on  just 
the  same — her  life ;  she  could  not  die  at  will.  She 
would  have  to  go  on  with  it,  too.  She  would  live — it 
might  be  for  another  fifty  years ;  she  was  only  twenty 
now !  She  must  live  !  And  with  that  thought — a 
thought  that  became  a  disagreeable  certainty — there 
came  another.  How  ?  Where  ?  And  there  came,  also, 
the  full  realisation  of  how  utterly  alone  she  was. 
She  had  said  to  Brabazon  that  she  had  lost  father, 
home,  all ;  and  now  she  had  lost  the  man  upon  whose 
love  she  had  counted,  upon  whose  honour  she  had 
placed  all  her  faith  and  trust  She  had  indeed  lost 
all — even  her  self-respect  She  could  see  afresh  the 
uneasiness  of  his  manner,  she  could  hear  again  the 
ring  of  her  own  despairing  voice,  she  could  hear  the 
petulance,  mingled  with  the  weariness  and  incredulity 
of  his.  She  could  hear  him  telling  her  not  to  be  a 
little  fool ;  and  felt  herself  go  hot  all  over  at  the 

26 


NOK  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


memory  of  his  suggestion  that  he  wished  everything 
to  be  just  as  it  had  been,  at  the  memory  that  he  had 
evidently  no  doubt  but  that  she  would  wish  it  too. 
She  recollected  how  she  had  heard,  and  had  been 
almost  powerless  to  answer  him  ;  she  knew  now  what 
he  had  been  thinking  of  her  all  this  past  year ;  and 
over  all,  she  could  hear  the  bursts  of  laughter  from 
his  dining-room,  she  could  see  him  with  his  arms 
stretched  above  his  head  in  utter  boredom,  while  he 
told  her  calmly,  carelessly,  that  he  had  a  wife  already, 
a  wife  who  had  been  his  for  upwards  of  seven  years — 
who  was  an  "amiable  young  party,  who  was  good 
enough  to  keep  out  of  his  way  all  she  could." 

Then  something  seemed  to  snap  in  her  brain  ;  the 
terrible  strain  gave  way ;  merciful,  healing  tears  came, 
and  the  woman  threw  herself  down  by  the  side  of  her 
bed,  and  burst  into  passionate,  hopeless,  agonised 
weeping,  that  robbed  her  of  her  little  remaining 
strength,  and  left  her  weak  and  weary  as  a  child 
after  a  long  spell  of  grief. 

Long  after,  when  daylight  forced  itself  through  a 
chink  in  the  blind,  when  her  eyelids,  heavy  and 
drooping,  refused  to  open,  she  dragged  herself  to  her 
feet  and  crept  beneath  the  coverlet 

Dimly  she  heard  a  servant  coming  towards  her 
room,  dimly  she  realised  that  she  was  losing 
consciousness,  dimly  she  understood  that  blessed 
sleep  had  come  at  last.  And  as  her  face  touched 
the  cool  linen,  she  dreamed  that  she  was  back  in 
Brabazon's  rooms,  and  above  his  voice  there  rose 
another,  jovial,  a  little  thick,  full  of  intense  amuse- 
ment and  curiosity — 

"  Oh !     My  aunt !     A  PETTICOAT ! " 

Marshall's  wife,  Catherine,  crept  about  the  room 
softly  as  a  kitten.  She  shook  her  head  at  the 

27 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


untouched  tray,  and  let  her  eyes  wander  to  the  wan 
little  face  on  the  pillow.  It  was  a  very  wan  face  ; 
the  cheeks  were  drawn,  the  lips  were  compressed, 
even  in  sleep,  and  great  purple  shadows  lay  beneath 
the  heavy  dark  fringe  of  eyelashes. 

One  arm  hung  helplessly  over  the  side  of  the  bed 
and  across  the  fore  part  of  it  a  tangle  of  bright, 
copper-coloured,  waving  hair  fell  heavily. 

"  She  have  took  on ! "  murmured  the  woman  to 
herself,  while  she  gently  put  back  the  arm,  and 
spread  the  fine  masses  of  hair  over  the  pillow,  with 
loving  touch.  **  She's  just  wore  out  with  grievin1  and 
thinkin' ;  and  no  wonder ! "  The  last  remark  was 
addressed  to  the  offending,  untouched  tray. 

Taking  it  downstairs,  she  set  it  down  with  a  mild 
crash  right  under  Marshall's  nose. 

"Look  at  that,"  she  said,  "not  a  bite  in  her  lips 
all  the  blessed  yesterday!  She's  lying  in  her  bed 
like  a  little  dead  thing,  so  white — and  her  eyelids 
swole,  and  a  sob  catching  of  her  breath  like  a  child, 
every  moment  or  two.  Have  she  said  anything  to 
you  where  she's  going  or  what  she's  meaning  to  do, 
Marshall?" 

"  Not  a  word.  I  thought  maybe  she  would  after 
Mr  Meredith  had  been ;  but  she  did  seem  fairly  on 
hot  bricks  all  yesterday.  He  said  he'd  have  a 
talk  with  me ;  but  I  never  even  see  him  go ! " 
Catherine  broke  an  egg  into  the  poacher  with  a 
little  vicious  crack. 

**  There  isn't  a  penny  piece,"  she  said,  "  Mr  Grattan 
warned  us  of  that  Miss  Valerie's  got  to  be  out  of 
this  house  in  three  days  at  latest,  and  what  I  want  to 
know  is — what  is  she  going  to  do?  Where's  she 
going  to  ?  She  knows  no  more  about  earning  a 
living  than  this  basin." 

•t 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"There  was  Mr  Drummond's  sisters,  you  know, 
Catherine." 

"  What !  them  old  ladies  at  Dale  ?  Lor'  bless  you ! 
why,  Miss  Valerie  wouldn't  never  stand  them  nor 
the  place  for  a  week  ! " 

"Poor  child!"  murmured  Marshall.  "She'll  find 
there's  worse  nor  that  to  bear." 

"  But  them !  Why,  they're  the  sort  not  even  the 
master  could  abide  to  hear  talked  about." 

"  It'll  be  a  home,  anyway,  and  with  her  own  flesh 
and  blood.  That's  something." 

Catherine  said  "  Um "  dubiously,  and  flourished 
a  piece  of  toast  about  with  some  indignation. 

"  She  as  has  had  her  own  way  from  a  baby,"  she 
went  on,  "and  has  run  wild,  and  been  petted  and 
spoiled  the  way  that  would  have  ruined  any  other 
girl — it  would  kill  her,  Marshall." 

"  Well,  don't  you  go  telling  her  so.  If  she's  got 
to  go  there,  down  to  Dale,  let  her  go  with  a  light 
heart  I'd  be  easier  than  if  she  stayed  on  by  herself 
in  London.  Just  think  what  a  beauty  she's  growed  ; 
just  remember  some  of  those  as  has  been  here  and 
gone  pretty  well  wild  over  her.  You  know  there's 
all  them  left  though  her  father  is  gone,  and  plenty 
of  them  a  bit  free  living.  She'd  maybe  get  mixed 
up  with  a  crowd  as  would  do  her  no  good.  No, 
Catherine,  she's  young,  when  all's  said  and  done ; 
and  it's  my  belief,  she'd  be  better  off  with  the  old 
ladies." 

"  I  suppose  you're  right,"  assented  his  wife,  rather 
grudgingly.  "Lor',  don't  it  seem  dreadful  that 
anyone  should  die  like  the  master  did,  and  leave  his 
child  wanting  for  even  a  roof!  " 

Marshall  did  not  answer.  The  subject  was 
distressing  to  him  to  a  degree.  He  brought  a  fresh 
'-  «9 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


serviette  and  spread  it  upon  the  tray ;  and  he 
polished  a  knife  with  elaborate  care,  and  passed  the 
duster  over  his  moist  eyes,  surreptitiously.  The 
good  old  days  of  happiness  in  the  service  of  those 
two  whom  he  had  loved  well  were  over,  and  no  one 
realised  it  more  fully  than  Marshall. 

Catherine  was  heavy-hearted  too,  though  her  very 
back  seemed  to  bristle  with  indignation  as  she  went 
out  of  the  kitchen  with  her  mistress's  breakfast 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


IV 


CATHERINE  made  such  a  clatter  with  the 
tray  that  the  sleeper  stirred  uneasily,  and 
the  noise  being  followed  up  by  a  good  deal 
of  rustling  about  the  room,  Miss  Drummond 
opened  her  eyes,  coming  back  to  life,  and,  very  slowly, 
to  memory,  with  an  effort  that  was  painful. 

"  Is  it  late,  Catherine  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,  child — it's  early  enough.  If  you'll  just  eat 
this  you  may  lie  back  and  sleep  all  you  like." 

Valerie  felt  unequal  to  argument ;  she  also  felt 
weak  with  long  fasting,  and  so  she  sat  up  on 
one  elbow,  and  took  the  slight  breakfast  half 
unwillingly,  half  gratefully.  By  the  time  she  lay 
back  against  the  pillows  once  more,  sleep  was 
banished,  and  only  clear  memory  remained.  It  held 
her  silent ;  she  lay  quite  still,  her  eyes  following 
the  servant  without  seeing  her.  She  still  felt  that 
dull  feeling  of  added  loss,  of  dread,  of  bewilderment, 
of  bitter  humiliation  and  shame ;  but  some  of  the 
miserable  helplessness  was  gone.  With  the  light  of 
day,  with  the  knowledge  that  the  world  was  awake 
again,  that  there  was  life  all  about  her,  in  which  she 
must  take  part,  there  came  to  her  almost  all  her  old 
courage  wherewith  she  had  often  helped  her  father, 
and  sometimes,  with  him,  fought  Fate.  It  was 
courage  which  had  in  it  a  touch  of  reckless,  careless 
daring — courage  that  she  inherited  from  him.  It 
was  made  up  of  patience,  of  extraordinary  powers  of 

J» 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


endurance,  of  natural  light-heartedness  that  no  amount 
of  adversity  could  destroy.  Jack  Drummond  had 
been  her  comrade  and  friend  as  well  as  her  father; 
he  had  taught  her  that  there  was  nothing  so  bad  but 
that  there  was  room  for  it  to  be  worse,  and  she  had 
learned  to  believe  it  He  had  brought  her  up  in  the 
comfortable  certainty  that  something  would  be  sure 
to  "turn  up";  and  as  she  had  had  good  reason  to 
think  that  there  was  much  truth  in  his  prophecies, 
she  had  fallen  into  the  habit  of  taking  life  happily 
on  the  fly,  as  he  did,  and  generally  coming  out  of 
difficult  situations  very  little  the  worse. 

Last  night  it  had  seemed  to  her  that  she  had 
received  her  death-blow ;  this  morning,  though  she 
looked  back  upon  one  hour  of  that  night  with  shame 
that  made  her  cheeks  tingle  warmly,  now,  the  rare 
feeling  of  utter  helplessness  that  had  been  hers  then, 
was  no  longer  present  The  blood  was  so  young  in  her 
veins ;  life  should  have  but  just  begun  for  her,  not,  as 
it  had  seemed  a  few  hours  ago,  ended.  Last  night 
she  had  wished  to  die ;  this  morning,  while  she  lay 
still,  and  let  her  eyes  wander  to  the  patch  of  blue  in 
the  winter  sky  that  she  could  see  through  her  window, 
she  felt  a  shudder  run  through  her  at  the  fresh 
thought  of  death,  a  determination  to  cling  to 
life  with  all  her  power.  Beyond  these  four  walls 
there  was  surely  freedom  and  hope  for  her ;  of  her 
misery  and  her  humiliation  none  knew — none  need 
ever  know.  Her  father  had  taught  her  that  it  was 
only  cowards  who  went  under,  easily,  at  the  first 
blow ;  life  had  taught  her  that  one  must  not  endure 
the  blows  too  calmly — one  must  hit  back.  Oddly 
enough,  her  mind  went  back  to  old  happy  days — made 
happy  by  her  father,  not  those  that  had  been  filled 
with  happiness  by  another.  Days  when  they  had 

32 


NOR  ALL  YOUR.  TEARS 


made  merry  over  a  scanty  meal,  or  a  terribly  empty 
pocket.  She  was  vaguely  glad  that  she  could 
remember  these  things  to-day.  Laughter  was  far 
enough  from  her  now,  but  a  glance  back  into  the  past 
told  her  what  her  courage  could  be.  It  seemed  to 
point  out  a  road  to  her  that  she  had  almost  forgotten. 

She  sprang  out  of  bed  so  suddenly  that  Catherine 
was  startled. 

"  Lor',  my  bird  ! "  she  exclaimed. 

"  I  feel  better  now,  Catherine,  thanks  to  your 
breakfast,"  the  girl  declared.  "  I'll  ring  when  I  want 
you." 

The  woman  went,  a  little  reluctantly.  The  words 
she  wanted  to  speak  would  not  come.  Catherine  was 
not  very  brave  except  with  Marshall. 

Miss  Drummond  made  her  toilette  very  thought- 
fully and  very  slowly.  She  had  pushed  aside  a  little 
heap  of  letters  which  she  was  sure  would  only  tell 
her  again  so  many  things  that  she  knew  already;  and 
she  made  a  wry  face  at  some  bills,  with  which,  she 
was  glad  to  remember,  Mr  Grattan  had  told  her  she 
had  no  concern.  Still  thoughtfully,  still  making- 
plans  only  to  unmake  them,  she  presently  went 
downstairs.  Half  way,  she  was  met  by  Marshall, 
who  put  all  her  plans  to  flight,  and  drove  every 
vestige  of  colour  from  her  cheeks,  by  the  announce- 
ment that  Mr  Brabazon  desired  to  see  her. 

"And  I've  showed  him  into  the  studio,  Miss,  which 
it  doesn't  look  quite  so  forlorn  and  empty,"  he  added, 
standing  aside  for  her  to  pass. 

Valerie  did  not  answer ;  she  could  not  The  little 
sickly  feeling  of  faintness,  that  had  almost  overcome 
her  last  night,  threatened  her  now.  But  Marshall 
only  saw  that  she  went  in  the  direction  of  the  studio, 
and  entered  it  calmly. 

33  « 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


Brabazon  turned  sharply  from  the  window  at  her 
unexpectedly  prompt  appearance.  He  held  out  his 
hand,  which  Miss  Drummond  chose  not  to  see. 

"  I  said  I  should  look  you  up  this  morning,  Val," 
he  declared,  letting  the  rejected  hand  fall  to  his  side 
and  his  eyebrows  go  up  resignedly,  while  he  fixed  his 
tired  eyes  on  her  face.  "  It  was  worth  a  dozen  of 
writing what  ?  " 

"You there  is  something  you  wish  to  say  to 

me  ?  "  inquired  Valerie  coldly.  Her  tone  was  a  little 
perplexing. 

"  Of  course  there  is  I  You  know  that  well  enough. 
There  are  any  amount  of  things !  Don't  let  us 
quarrel,  sweetest — I  hoped  you  would  have  slept  off 
your  anger !  Last  night — I — well,  the  fact  is,  I'd  had 
the  very  mischief  of  a  day;  I  don't  believe  I  quite 
knew  what  I  was  saying  or  doing,  and  then  those 
men  were  there,  and — there  was  no  time  to  come 
to  any  arrangement " 

"  Arrangement  ? — What  about  ?  " 

M  Why,  about  you  of  course !  And  what  is  going 
to  be  done  and  where  you  are  going." 

"  Is  that  any  business  of  yours  ?  " 

"  Whew !  I  should  rather  think  it  is !  I  like  you 
in  a  temper,"  he  added  softly,  and  came  nearer  to 
her ;  "  but  let's  get  over  business  before  you  start 
bullying  me,  little  girl.  Then  you  may  say  what  you 
like,  and  I  will  forgive  you  ;  you  may  cry  your  dear 
little  heart  out — in  my  arms,  of  course — and  I'll  kiss 
the  tears  away.  Then  we  might  motor  down  to 
Truwell — dine,  and  ..." 

A  smothered  sound,  that  was  something  between  a 
moan  of  pain  and  a  savage  cry  of  rage,  silenced  him. 
Valerie  had  stepped  back  out  of  his  reach,  her  eyes 
ablaze,  her  whole  slender  body  quivering.  The  words 

34 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


she  would  have  spoken  seemed  to  be  choked  back  in 
her  throat ;  she  hated  herself  because  she  had  no 
power  to  speak,  to  order  him  from  the  room,  to  say 
all  that  was  in  her  heart.  She  felt  the  tears  of  anger 
rising  to  her  eyes  and  then  falling  miserably  down 
her  cheeks,  and  she  turned  blindly  away,  knowing 
that  he  mistook  them  for  tears  of  grief,  because  he 
reached  her  side  in  one  step,  and  took  her  forcibly  in 
his  arms,  and  kissed  her  throat  and  lips  and  hair  and 
closed  eyes  at  will,  while  she  lay  for  the  last  time  on 
his  heart,  while  she  fought  with  all  her  strength  to 
crush  out  of  her  own  heart  the  love  that  seemed  to 
leap  to  life  again  beneath  his  touch. 

"  What  a  heart-broken  little  girl  it  is ! "  he  whispered 
over  her  softly.  "Don't  cry  so  badly,  darling.  It  is 
all  my  fault,  I  know,  and  I  want  you  to  forgive  me. 
If  I  hadn't  dined  a  good  deal  better  than  wisely,  last 
night,  I  don't  think  I  should  have  let  you  into  family 
secrets.  But  as  you  know  now,  it  is  no  use  trying  to 
keep  them  dark.  Do  you,  or  do  you  not  understand 
my  position  ?  " 

Then,  at  last,  she  found  strength  to  free  herself,  to 
thrust  him  back  from  her  so  suddenly  that  his  hold 
loosened  upon  her  unconsciously,  to  move  quickly  to 
the  other  side  of  a  broad  table. 

"  Have  you  no  mercy,  no  pity  ? "  she  breathed 
pantingly.  M  Have  you  not  shamed  me  enough  ?  Oh, 
my  God !  what  have  I  ever  done  to  deserve  this ; 
harm  enough,  I  own,  but  not — not  enough  to  warrant 
this  insult  Why  have  you  come  here  at  all  ?  Why 
do  you  seek  me  again?  Did  you  not  tell  me  last 
night  that  you  have  a  wife  ?  Can  you  not  understand 
that  you  might  far  better  have  driven  a  knife  into  my 
heart" 

"  This  is  melodrama,  my  child." 
35 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  It  is  truth  !  I  believed  in  you,  I  trusted  you,  and 
you  deceived  me." 

"  You  loved  me,  too  ;  you  love  me  now ! " 

She  held  her  hand  heavily  over  her  heart  for  a 
moment,  but  though  she  neither  admitted  nor  denied 
it,  Brabazon  was  well  satisfied. 

"You  deceived  me,"  she  went  on,  "that  ends 
everything.  Cannot  you  understand  that  the  only 
thing  I  pray  for  now  is  that  I  may  never  look  upon 
your  face  again,  that  I  may  have  power  to  forget  you 
utterly.  Your  place  is  not  here — it  is  with  your  wife. 
Go  to  her,  but  never  dare  to  seek  me  again.  So  far 
as  I  am  concerned,  I  can  only  tell  you  what,  in  your 
heart,  you  must  know,  that  you  have  filled  all  the 
years  that  may  come  for  me  with  shame  and 
everlasting  regret — shame  that  I  should  have  been 
weak  enough  to  put  myself  in  your  power,  regret 
that  I  could  ever  have  cared  sufficiently  for  you  to — 
to — stoop  to  deception — to  worse — for  your  sake. 
You  know  what  I  mean ;  you  know  that  the  only 
thing  I  ever  hid  from  my  father  in  all  my  life, 
was  my — our  friendship.  I  told  you  last  night  that 
I  blamed  myself  so  entirely  that  I  could  not  blame 
you  much.  And  you  reminded  me  that  I  am  no 
innocent  school-girl.  That  would  seem  to  rob  me  of 
all  excuse  for  ever  having  trusted  you  ;  yet  I  have  an 
excuse — I  have  been  taught  always  to  believe  the 
simple  word  of  a  gentleman.  I  believed  you  loved 
me,  and  I  knew  I  loved  you — in  that,  all  is  told.  I 
trusted  you  always — doubt  was  nowhere  in  my  mind. 
You  know  that — you  know,"  covering  her  face  for  a 
moment  with  both  hands,  "how  well  I  trusted  you. 
I  believed  that  one  day  I  should  be  your  wife — was 
it  so  odd  that  to  you  first  of  all  my  thoughts  should 
turn — 1  should  turn?  And  when  I  could  bear  the 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


suspense  and  the  silence  no  longer,  I  came  to  you — 
to  hear  that  you  had  a  wife  already — oh,  to  hear  that 
for  eight  long  years  you  have  called  this  woman  wife 
— to  realise  that  while  I  gave  you  all  my  faith  and 
trust,  while  I — I — O  God  !  while  I  let  you  lead  and 
I  followed  blindly,  you,  for  your  sport,  were  laying 
the  foundation  stone  of  the  ruin  of  my  whole  life, 
you  in  your  heart  were  mocking  at  my  trust,  as  you 
have  doubtless  mocked  at  the  trust  of  many  another 
woman.  And,  more  than  that,  I  came  to  you  to  be 
offered  the  deepest  insult  of  which  you  could  possibly 
think — to  hear  that  it  is  your  belief  that  my  eyes 
were  open  always  to — to — my  position." 

Her  voice,  always  low  and  pretty,  had  scarcely 
risen  by  a  tone ;  but  it  was  so  full  of  passion,  of 
contempt  for  herself,  and  something  more  than 
contempt  for  him,  of  mingled  weariness  and  anger, 
that,  for  a  little  while,  he  let  her  speak  on,  not 
attempting  to  interrupt  her. 

"  What  I  do  in  the  future  is  no  concern  of  yours ; 
whither  I  go,  of  my  will,  you  shall  never  know;  but 
be  sure  it  is  where  all  memory  of  the  past  may  be 
shut  out,  and  where  you  and  I  may  never  meet 
again.  The  blow  you  have  dealt  me  has  dug  the 
grave  of  my  love,  though,  in  spite  of  that,  it  is  hard, 
yet,  to  bury  it,  and  I  know  that  in  time  I  shall  be 
able  to  look  back  upon  this  year  as  upon  one 
that  was  never  a  year  in  my  life,  that  there  will  be  no 
touch  of  grief  in  my  heart  for  the  loss  of  you,  but 
only  grief  for  my  own  pitiful  weakness.  I  know  that 
I  shall  laugh,  when  laughter  may  come  to  me  again, 
at  my  own  self-deception,  which  lasted  long  enough, 
alas !  to  make  me  your  dupe.  And  yet,"  with  a 
little  gesture  of  despair,  "  I  could  almost  wish  that  it 
were  not  so,  that  I  could  keep  the  memory  at  least 

37 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


sacred — it  would  take  away  some  of  the  disgust,  some 
of  the  shame." 

Brabazon  had  listened  carefully,  and  not  very 
comfortably.  For  the  first  time  in  all  his  reckless, 
evil  life  there  came  upon  him  a  touch  of  shame,  a 
feeling  of  compassion  for  a  woman  whom  he  had 
deceived  and  betrayed.  It  might  have  been  that,  with 
her  words  still  ringing  in  his  ears,  he  realised  how 
completely  he  had  worked  the  ruin  of  her  young  life ; 
it  might  have  been  that  he  realised  that  he  was 
parting,  perhaps,  this  once,  from  a  woman  of  whom 
he  had  not  yet  tired,  and  whom  he  would  not  willingly 
let  go  without  a  struggle. 

But  the  shame  and  the  compassion  died  a  swift 
death  ;  he  caught  most  clearly  the  tone  of  anger  in 
her  voice,  and  he  decided  that  it  was  a  good  sign. 
The  greater  her  anger  —  hers  or  any  woman's — 
the  more  pleasant  the  task  of  comforting  her ;  also 
the  more  easy.  It  only  remained  for  the  tears  to 
come  again — the  woman  who  wept  forgave  soonest. 

"  I  don't  deny  that  from  your  point  of  view  I 
deserve  all  you  have  just  said  to  me,  Val,"  he  said 
suddenly,  letting  his  voice  sink  to  soft  persuasive 
gentleness,  and  his  eyes  speak  swift,  tender  passion 
straight  into  hers.  "  The  only  excuse  I  have  to  offer 
is  my  love  for  you,  and  also  my  fear  of  losing  you. 
I  cannot  give  you  my  name  ;  but  I  can  give  you 
love  and  happiness — I  can  give  you  all  my  care  and 
the  best  of  my  life,  such  as  it  is.  As  for  all  the  rubbish 
you'd  have  me  believe  about  not  caring  for  me,  pooh ! 
you're  in  a  rage,  little  woman,  and  perhaps  a  trifle 
jealous — though  I  swear  to  you,  you  need  not  be — 
and  you  say  things  to-day  that  you  will  regret  to- 
morrow. I  know  you  better  than  you  know  yourself, 
Val,"  reaching  her  side  and  putting  a  tender  arm  about 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


her  shoulders  and  holding  her  in  a  grip  from  which 
she  knew  she  could  only  escape  by  a  violent  struggle. 
"  You're  absolutely  alone,  and  for  that  matter  so  am 
I,  in  spite  of  ties  which  I  do  my  best  to  forget ;  and 
who  shall  hinder  us  from  finding  our  happiness  in  our 
own  way?  If  you  went  on  telling  me  for  an  hour 
that  you  hated  me,  I  should  not  believe  you.  I 
should  remind  you,  instead,  of  a  day  a  year  ago,  when 
we  first  met,  of  another  day,  long  after  that ;  ah !  and 
many  other  days  that  I  defy  you  to  forget,  defy  you 
to  regret,  when  ..." 

"  And  so  you  are  a  coward,  too ! "  she  breathed, 
very  low,  but  with  her  eyes  ablaze,  and  every  word 
coming  in  a  gasp.  Then,  throwing  herself  back,  she 
released  her  shoulders,  and  with  a  swift  movement 
that  he  failed  to  arrest,  put  her  hand  heavily  upon  the 
bell. 

Marshall  must  have  been  remarkably  close  at  hand ; 
before  the  sound  died  away  he  was  in  the  room. 

Miss  Drummond  turned  to  him  quietly,  but  with  a 
very  white  face. 

"  Open  the  door  for  Mr  Brabazon,"  she  said. 


39 


NOK  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 


VALERIE  stood  with  her  hand  closed  tightly 
upon  the  window  curtain  ;  she  heard  the 
door  below  shut ;  Brabazon's  step  upon 
the  pavement  outside ;  and  she  leant 
forward  in  time  to  see  his  tall  figure  passing  leisurely 
round  the  corner  of  the  street. 

That  chapter  of  her  life  was  ended ;  that  page 
folded  down!  The  chill  brilliance  of  the  winter 
morning  faded  before  her  eyes ;  everywhere  misery 
and  hopelessness  stared  her  in  the  face — the  only 
restful  spot  in  all  the  world  was  the  cold,  restless 
river  opposite,  and  to  that  her  eyes  turned  with 
unconscious  longing. 

A  short,  respectful  cough,  meant  to  attract  her 
attention,  roused  her.  Marshall  was  standing  at 
her  elbow  with  a  letter  upon  a  tray. 

"  It  came  by  special  messenger,  Miss." 

Valerie  recognised  the  writing.  It  was  that  which 
always  appeared  on  the  envelope  of  a  letter  from  Mr 
Grattan,  the  gentleman  whom  she  had  been  wont  to 
style  "our  confidential,  family  solicitor."  She  made 
a  wry  face  at  it;  there  was  not  likely  to  be  much 
inside  to  interest  her.  And  when  Marshall  had  gone, 
she  opened  it  with  indifferent  fingers,  but  fingers 
that  still  trembled. 

Mr  Grattan  informed  her  that  all  which  could 
possibly  be  done  for  her  had  been  done;  that  the 

4° 


NOB  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


little  which  had  been  saved  out  of  her  father's 
possessions  had  been  already  handed  over  to  her; 
and  that  there  was  nothing  further  he,  himself,  could 
do,  gladly  as  he  would  have  helped  her.  Then  he 
went  on  to  say  that  he  had  received  a  visit  from  her 
aunts,  the  Misses  Drummond  of  Dale,  who  desired 
it  to  be  made  known  to  their  niece,  through  him, 
that  they  were  willing  for  her  to  make  their  home 
her  own  till  she  had  succeeded  in  getting  employ- 
ment, which  employment  they  were  prepared  to  help 
her  to  find.  He  expatiated  rather  tactlessly  upon 
their  generosity,  and  advised  their  niace  most 
strongly  to  accept  their  offer  of  a  home.  He  hinted 
that  this  would  undoubtedly  mean  a  start  in  life  for 
her,  and  reminded  her  that  she  was  certainly  not  in 
a  position  to  refuse  such  an  offer  lightly.  And  for 
a  long  time  Valerie  studied  the  letter  carefully.  She 
had  forgotten  her  aunts — the  slight  mention  that 
had  been  made  of  them  by  Mr  Grattan  at  the  time 
of  her  father's  death.  They  were  women  whom  she 
had  never  seen,  so  far  as  she  could  remember ; 
women  of  whom  her  father  had  never  spoken  to 
her.  Beyond  knowing  that  he  had  two  sisters,  she 
knew  nothing  about  them.  In  the  early  days  of  her 
childhood  she  had  formed  the  idea  that  he  and  they 
were  not  friends ;  latterly,  up  to  the  time  of  her 
father's  death,  she  had  completely  forgotten  their 
very  existence.  But  now  she  remembered  them ; 
now  she  remembered  that  if  she  chose,  she  might, 
through  them,  escape  from  her  own  little  world, 
almost  from  memory,  and  she  might  certainly  put 
the  past  quite  behind  her.  There  was  temptation 
in  their  offer  which  could  not  have  existed  in  it  had 
it  been  made  a  day  sooner — made  seriously.  She 
had  heard,  with  indifferent  ears,  that  they  had  asked 

4' 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


her  to  go  to  them,  from  Mr  Grattan,  before ;  she 
remembered  now  that  even  her  father's  friend,  Mr 
Meredith,  had  advised  it,  and  had  seemed  glad  that 
these  ladies  had  written  to  her.  But  she  had  paid 
so  little  heed.  If  she  noticed  their  invitation  at  all, 
it  was  to  regard  it  in  the  light  of  many  little 
sympathetic,  meaningless  compliments  she  had 
received  in  the  first  moments  of  her  grief.  She 
remembered  now,  that  they  had  written  to  her  and 
evidently  to  Mr  Grattan,  and  it  came  to  her  in  a 
vague  sort  of  way  that  they  would  not  be  likely  to 
pay  anybody  a  sympathetic,  meaningless  compliment. 
There  was  certainly  temptation  in  their  offer — in  Mr 
Grattan's  dull,  chill,  pedantic  letter.  Unconsciously 
he  had  shown  her  a  way  out  of  her  world ;  he  used 
the  words  "a  start  in  life,"  and  she  read  in  them  a 
meaning  which  he  had  not  intended.  She  wanted 
to  start  afresh  ;  and  these  unknown  women,  her  aunts, 
gave  her  the  opportunity  at  the  very  moment  when 
she  was  eager  to  grasp  it.  She  remembered  that 
one  of  her  father's  favourite  sayings  was  that  no 
door  ever  shut  but  that  another  flew  open.  It  had 
seemed  to  her  that  the  gates  of  a  paradise  of  her 
own  making  had  been  slammed  in  her  face ;  it 
seemed  to  her  now  that  the  door  to  hope,  to  a  new 
life,  a  new  world,  had  been  opened  to  her.  The  past 
should  be  shut  away  behind ;  only  the  present 
should  live  in  her  mind. 

She  rang  the  bell  again. 

"  Marshall,"  she  said,  M  my  aunts,  Miss  Hermione 
and  Miss  Angela  Drummond,  whom  I  fancy  you 
know  a  little,  have  asked  me  to  go  to  them — and  I 
am  going  at  once.  I  shall  be  sorry  to  leave  you  and 
Catherine,  but  Mr  Grattan  explained  everything  to 
you,  and  you  know  I  have  no  home,  and  no  money — 

4* 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


till  I  can  earn  some!"  with  a  rueful  little  smile. 
"  I'm  afraid  I  shall  never  get  very  rich  on  my  own 
earnings,  Marshall,  are  not  you  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  not,  Miss  Valerie,"  returned  Marshall 
honestly,  with  tears  in  his  old  eyes  ;  "  and  I  pray  God 
you  may  never  need  to.  I  knew  your  mother,  Miss, 
from  the  hour  that  she  was  your  father's  wife,  and  a 
fairer,  frailer  flower  never  was  put  on  this  earth.  You 
cost  her  her  life,  Miss  Valerie,  and  you  were  all  your 
father  had  to  cling  to  in  this  world  when  she  was 
gone.  Now  I  want  you  just  to  remember  that,  and 
that  these  ladies  are  the  master's  sisters,  God  rest 
his  soul ;  and  I  want  you  to  be  a  bit  patient,  which 
it  isn't  in  you  to  be,  with  their  ways,  and  the 
dulness  of  the  life  that  you'll  find  at  Dale.  The 
Miss  Drummonds  aren't  like  their  brother,  Miss,  but 
they're  your  own  flesh  and  blood,  and  they'll  help 
you  to  the  right  way,  no  doubt,  though  they'll  go 
about  it  in  another  way  to  what  you  would  yourself." 
And  Marshall  stopped,  abashed  at  his  own  temerity, 
broken  with  grief  now  that  the  actual  moment  of 
parting  from  his  young  mistress  seemed  to  have 
arrived,  and  observing  curiously  that  she  was  very 
silent  and  meek  under  his  well-meaning  words  of 
advice. 

"  I'll  remember,  Marshall.  I'll  remember  what 
dear  souls  you  and  Catherine  have  ever  been  to 
me  and  to  dear  father,  too.  Will  you  send  her 
to  me  now?  I  want  her  to  help  me  pack,  and  I 
want  you  to  send  a  telegram  for  me  presently." 
And  she  took  his  hands  in  hers,  and  touched  his 
withered  cheek  with  her  fresh  young  lips,  as  she  had 
done  in  childhood's  days. 

Half  an  hour  later  Valerie  sent  the  following 
telegram — 

43 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"To  Miss  DRUMMOND, 

DALE,  DINSDALB. 

"  Many  thanks  to  you  and  Aunt  Angela,  I  shall 
be  with  you  to-night,  if  I  may. — V.  D. " 

And  though  this  telegram  was  sent  off  before  two 
o'clock,  it  was  close  upon  half-past  seven  in  the 
evening  when  it  was  brought  to  the  elder  Miss 
Drummond,  at  Dale.  An  upper  housemaid  presented 
it  to  her,  while  she  was  just  in  the  act  of  putting 
on  a  pair  of  short  black  mittens  as  the  finishing 
touch  to  the  toilette  she  had  made  for  dinner. 

"A  boy  from  the  village  wants  to  see  me?" 
she  inquired,  with  a  slight  frown  at  something  the 
maid  murmured  softly.  "What  do  you  mean, 
Elsom?" 

"  I  mean  he  wants  to  tell  you  about  it,  ma'am. 
That  is  what  he  says,  anyway,  and  Mr  Upton  thought 
I  had  better  let  you  know." 

Miss  Hermione  clasped  a  band  of  jet  beads  round 
the  bone  of  her  wrist  slowly.  If  Upton  thought  it 
necessary  that  she  should  see  this  messenger,  she 
thought  so  too. 

"  Take  him  to  the  morning-room,"  she  said. 

There  she  presently  found  a  shy  youth,  who 
fidgeted  first  on  one  leg  and  then  on  the  other, 
and  nervously  twisted  his  wet  cap  into  a  rag  ball. 

"  Mr  Parkins  he  told  me  to  tell  you,  Miss,  that  the 
telegrim  was  sent  off  from  London  afore  two,  but 
it  never  come  anigh  here  till  after  five,  and  it  have 
took  me  the  best  part  of  two  hour  and  a  half  to 
get  here  with  it" 

While  he  spoke,  Miss  Drummond  was  reading 
Valerie's  message. 

"This  is  rather  serious,"  she  said.     "What  is  the 


NOR  ALL  YOUK  TEAKS 


cause  of  the  delay,  and  its  delivery  in  this  irregular 
manner  ?  " 

"Tis  the  storm,  Miss.  The  wires  is  broke  from 
Mitching  to  Dinsdale ;  and  the  roads  is  fair  blocked 
with  the  snow,  Miss.  I  know  it  took  me " 

"  I'm  quite  aware  of  the  fact  that  it  took  you  two 
hours  and  a  half  to  get  here,"  interrupted  Miss 
Drummond  tartly.  She  rang  the  bell. 

"  Upton,"  she  said,  to  the  old,  sour-faced  man  who 
came  in  answer,  "take  this  young  man  away,  and 
let  him  wait  Is  Miss  Angela  down  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  And  is  the  storm  so  very  bad  ?  " 

"  So  I  hear,  ma'am." 

"  Ask  Miss  Angela  to  step  here,  please." 

"Angela,"  she  said  slowly,  as  her  sister  entered, 
"  this  is  a  telegram  from  Valerie  —  poor  Jack's  girl. 
The  storm,  which  has  damaged  the  wires,  and  the 
terrible  state  of  the  roads,  are  responsible  for  the  delay. 
It  was  sent  before  two,  and  we  ought  to  have  had  it 
long  ago." 

Miss  Angela  was  reading  aloud. 

"  Many  thanks  to  you  and  Aunt  Angela,  I  shall 
be  with  you  to-night  if  I  may. — V.  D." 

"  Is  not  that  just  what  one  might  have  expected  of 
a  girl  like  that  ?  "  she  said,  looking  up.  "  Such  rude 
haste,  such  ill-mannered  impulsiveness.  She  takes  no 
notice  of  our  first  letter,  but  now,  acting  upon  Mr 
Grattan's  advice,  I  presume,  she  accepts  our  offer 
without  a  moment's  hesitation." 

"  I  believe  she  was  obliged  to  leave  her  present 
home  immediately — that  may  account  in  some  way 
for  the  haste,"  declared  Miss  Hermione.  "The 
question  is  now,  Angela,  what  will  she  call  'to-night'? 
Will  she  have  started  ?  .  .  .  " 

45 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  Surely  she  would  wait  for  our  answer  1 " 

"  You  think  she  would  ?  " 

"My  dear  sister  1  She  says — If  I  may;  she  would 
expect  to  hear,  after  that" 

"To  many,  to  a  girl  brought  up  by  Jack,  for 
instance,  the  'if  I  may'  would  be  a  mere  figure  of 
speech.  I  was  thinking,  if  she  has  started " 

"  Without  giving  us  time  for  preparation  ! " 

"  It  would  be  just  what  poor  Jack  would  have  done, 
There  are  only  the  express  and  the  slow  train  to-night 
We  cannot  send  to  see  if  she  arrives,  as  the  roads  are 
so  bad,  and " 

"  I  don't  think  I  should  trouble  about  it  She  is 
surely  not  so  ill-mannered  as  to  make  a  sort  of  hotel 
of  our  house  ;  besides,  if  she  were  coming,  she  would 
have  mentioned  a  train.  We  had  better  let  the  lad 
take  our  answer  to  the  post  office." 

Miss  Drummoiid  wrote  in  silence  for  a  few  minutes ; 
then  she  read  the  message  aloud. 

"Your  telegram  delayed  by  storm.  We  shall  be 
prepared  to  receive  you  on  Friday." 

"If  you  cut  out  the 'we  shall  be'  it  will  go  for 
sixpence,"  said  Miss  Angela,  counting  carefully. 

"  Not  with  the  address." 

"Well,  three  halfpence  less,  anyway — and  there  is 
the  porterage,  you  know,  and  a  trifle  for  the  lad,  I 
suppose  ?  "  Upton  was  summoned  again  ;  and  as  he 
took  the  return  message,  he  announced  that  dinner 
was  served. 

It  was  nearly  nine  o'clock  before  Upton  left  the 
ladies  in  possession  of  the  fruit  and  two  glasses  of 
water,  and  free  to  talk  upon  the  subject  which  filled 
their  minds. 

"  I  regard  the  introduction  of  Valerie  to  Dale  as  a 
somewhat  hazardous  venture,"  observed  Miss  Angela, 

46 


NOR  ALL  YOUR,  TEARS 


"  I  don't  quite  see  how  it  could  have  been  avoided, 
Angela.  We  are  her  only  relatives,  and  even  though 
we  saw  little  or  nothing  of  Jack,  we  cannot  shirk  our 
plain  duty  now  that  he  is  dead.  I  have  been  think- 
ing, however,  that  it  will  be  wise  to  give  her  a 
sitting-room  for  her  own  use.  Young  girls  are  often 
exceedingly  boring,  when  they  are  not  merely  a 
nuisance.  If  only  Jack's  child  had  been  a  boy  ! " 

"  Ah  ! "  breathed  Miss  Angela,  "  If  1  There  would 
have  been  the  Army  or  the  Navy  in  view,  then,  and  so 
much  comfort  to  be  derived  from  a  nephew's  society." 

"  Shall  we  go  into  the  drawing-room  ? "  her  sister 
asked,  and  added,  when  they  were  closed  in  that 
room,  "we  must  not  borrow  trouble.  There  is  no 
reason  why  we  should  keep  Valerie  longer  than  it 
will  take  to  find  employment  for  her.  I  only  hope 
she  is  not  so  remarkable  in  appearance  as  she  was  at 
eight  years  old — according  to  a  photograph  Jack  sent 
us  then.  Will  you  take  tea  or  coffee?  Because  I 
am  going  to  have  tea,  and  it  is  hardly  worth  while  to 
make  both." 

"  I  will  have  tea,  then.  I  do  hope  Valerie  really 
did  not  start ! " 

While  one  old  lady  was  hoping  thus,  and  the  other 
was  giving  an  order  for  tea ;  while  both  were  working 
diligently  upon  some  coarse,  grey  flannel,  destined  to 
come  very  near  to  an  unfortunate  village  child's  skin, 
Miss  Valerie  Drummond  was,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
quietly  stamping  her  pretty  little  feet  on  the  floor  of 
a  railway  carriage  which  she  had  occupied  for  several 
hours,  and  which  belonged  to  a  train  that  seemed  no 
nearer  reaching  Dinsdale  than  when  it  had  stood 
fuming  noisily,  in  Paddington  Station.  The  only 
other  occupant  of  the  carriage  was  a  man  who  had 
entered  it  at  the  last  stopping  -  place,  about  five 

47 


NOK  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 


minutes  ago,  and  who,  while  feigning  to  read  the 
evening  paper,  was  watching,  with  furtive,  admiring 
eyes,  the  girl's  beautiful  profile,  the  scarlet  of  slightly 
pathetic  lips  against  the  whiteness  of  her  face,  and 
the  waves  of  hair  that  shone  like  gold,  beneath  the 
black  of  her  hat 

He  was  just  rehearsing  some  commonplace  remark 
about  the  weather,  which  could  not  well  offend,  when 
his  fellow-traveller  turned  swiftly  round. 

M  I  wonder,"  she  said  to  him,  meeting  his  eyes  with 
that  clear,  frank  gaze  which  was  one  of  her  principal 
charms,  "if  you  know  whether  this  wretched  train 
goes  to  Dinsdale  at  all  ?  And  if  it  does,  whether  it 
is  likely  to  get  there  to-night  ?  " 

"  To  Dinsdale  ?  "  he  returned,  removing  his  cap  and 
keeping  it  in  his  hand,  "  I  believe  it  is  supposed  to 
reach  there  somewhere  about  nine  o'clock.  This  is 
the  slow  train  from  London,  you  know,  which 
becomes  a  local  after  Deeping,  and  stops  everywhere. 
You  are  bound  for  Dinsdale  ?  " 

u  I  was,  when  I  started  !  "  she  declared,  with  a  little 
smile  that  revealed  very  pretty  teeth.  "I  begin  to 
have  doubts  of  being  bound  for  anywhere  in  particular, 
now ! " 

"Oh,  you  must  not  give  up  hope  so  soon.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  we  are  close  to  M  itching,  which  is  not 
so  very  far  from  Dinsdale ;  but  I  understand  that, 
for  the  last  hour,  it  has  been  a  difficult  matter  to  clear 
the  line.  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  fall  of  snow  ?  It 
is  quite  the  kind  of  blizzard  that  heaps  up  into  little 
mountains  before  one  realises  what  is  happening." 

M I  hope  it  won't  heap  up  on  the  line  just  yet  .  .  ." 

And  as  Miss  Drummond  spoke,  the  train  came  to 
such  a  sudden,  unexpeoted  halt,  that  she  was  shot 
forward  violently,  almost  into  the  stranger's  lap. 

4* 


NOR  ALL  YOUE  TEAKS 


"  I  fear  your  hope  is  too  late,"  he  declared.  "  If  I  am 
not  greatly  mistaken,  we  have  run  into  a  snow  drift." 

He  let  down  the  window  on  his  side,  but  the  air 
was  so  dense  with  steam  and  snow,  fine  as  powdered 
glass,  that  he  could  see  nothing.  The  wind  swept 
through  the  open  space  in  a  great  gust  that  blew  the 
papers  about,  and  threatened  the  light  The  engine 
was  making  a  deafening  noise ;  the  officials  were 
running  about,  talking,  shouting,  answering  a  hundred 
questions  put  to  them  by  the  passengers,  at  random. 

"  Do  not  be  alarmed,"  the  stranger  said,  obliged 
to  shout  at  her.  "  I  will  get  out  and  see  what  has 
happened." 

Ten  minutes  passed  before  he  returned ;  and 
Valerie  saw  that  there  was  a  rather  anxious  expres- 
sion upon  his  face,  though  he  spoke  cheerfully. 

"  It  is  as  I  thought,"  he  said.  "  There  is  no  chance 
of  getting  away  from  here  for  hours.  I  fear  you  will 
get  very  cold  and  hungry  long  before  we  can  hope  to 
proceed — and  I  don't  quite  know  what  to  suggest 
It  is  ten  minutes'  walk  along  the  line  to  the  next 
station,  and  when  one  gets  there,  there  is  not  even  a 
hotel  or  an  inn — nothing." 

"  How  very  disagreeable !  I  suppose  I  must  just 
sit  here  and  wait,  and  freeze,"  with  a  little  laugh. 

He  smiled  back  at  her;  it  was  good  to  see  her 
accepting  the  situation  so  easily,  even  merrily.  It 
was  plain  that  she  was  not  in  the  least  afraid,  either, 
which  simplified  matters  greatly. 

"  Were  you  going  to  Dinsdale,  too  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No;  just  from  one  house  to  another,  and  only  a 
little  way  down  the  line.  But  while  you  remain  here 
I  shall  stay  with  you.  It  is  not  nice  to  think  of  you 
being  alone  for  hours." 

He  stood  on  the  foot-board  with  his  face  partly 
49  ° 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


turned  towards  the  cheerless  outlook  ;  but  Valerie 
had  an  opportunity  of  studying  it  It  was  not 
particularly  good-looking,  certainly  not  handsome  ; 
but  it  was  exceedingly  kind,  and  its  whole  attraction 
lay  in  some  expression  of  the  mouth,  some  very 
gentle  light  which  lay  deep  down  in  the  grey-, 
blue  eyes.  His  skin  was  very  bronzed,  as  with 
travel  or  exposure  to  the  open  air  ;  his  hair,  what  his 
barber  had  left  him  of  it,  was  brown,  with  here  and 
there  a  suspicion  of  grey;  and  he  was  tall,  straight, 
and  broad-shouldered. 

He  turned  round  suddenly. 

"  If  I  were — for  myself — "  he  said,  "  I  should  walk. 
Are  you  a  good  walker  ?  " 

"Very." 

"  Will  you  let  me  take  you  with  me,  then  ?  Except 
the  station  beyond,  there  is  nothing  nearer  than 
Mitching  ;  but  I  know  every  inch  of  the  country  ;  and 
across  it,  by  short  cuts,  it  is  not  very  far.  Will  you 
come  ?  " 

Valerie  was  already  standing  up,  and  now  one  foot 
was  on  the  board. 

"  You  are  very  good,"  she  said,  while  he  took  her 
hands  and  helped  her  carefully  to  the  ground.  "  I 
would  far  rather  be  walking,  and  getting  a  little 
nearer — home."  Still  she  did  not  move  immediately, 
and  her  companion  said  : 

"  May  I  present  myself?  My  name  is  Wingate — 
I  am  going  on  to  Delmar  Lodge.  Perhaps  you 
know  ..." 

"  No  ;  I  am  quite  a  stranger  here." 

She  moved  a  little  in  the  direction  of  the  lights  as 
she  spoke,  and  he  kept  close  to  her  side,  now  and 
again  putting  a  warning  hand  on  her  arm,  as  she 
hastened  onward. 

5° 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


She  did  not  tell  him  her  name,  or  anything,  but 
that  she  wanted  to  get  to  Dinsdale.  It  did  not 
convey  much,  and  he  could  not  well  ask  more  ;  but  he 
wished  he  knew  with  whom  she  was  staying.  Her 
frank  acceptance  of  his  assistance,  her  ease  of  manner, 
the  absence  of  any  kind  of  foolish  hesitation  on  her 
part,  pleased  him.  He  noticed  that  she  carried  herself 
with  extreme  grace,  and  he  decided  that  she  was 
married. 

"  You  have  luggage  —  a  maid  with  you  ? "  he 
inquired. 

"  Only  my  dressing-bag,  which  you  are  carrying — 
no  maid." 

"Then  I  think  we  ought  to  be  getting  on.  The 
sooner  we  reach  M itching,  the  sooner  you  will  be  able 
to  set  your  people  at  rest  about  you." 

"  Thank  you,  yes." 

She  kept  easily  at  his  side,  walking  with  as  much 
freedom  as  the  high  wind  and  the  darkness  and  the 
heavy  roads  would  admit.  They  spoke  seldom, 
because  the  fine  snow  blew  in  their  teeth,  and  they 
had  to  roar  out  every  word  at  each  other.  She  never 
once  showed  the  faintest  trace  of  uneasiness  or 
fatigue ;  and  in  spite  of  all  the  disadvantages,  they 
kept  going  at  a  steady  pace.  And  when,  far  ahead, 
she  caught  the  uncertain  twinkle  of  lights,  she  breathed 
a  little  sigh  of  relief. 

"  That  is  the  beginning  of  Hitching,"  Wingate  said. 
"Are  you  very  tired  ? " 

"  Not  very." 

Once  more  there  was  silence.  They  came  at  last  to 
a  dismal,  deserted  market-place,  at  one  side  of  which 
there  was  a  small  inn.  One  or  two  men  who  were 
lounging  about  the  big  wooden  gates  touched  their 
caps,  recognising  Wingate ;  and  the  inn-keeper  gave 

5* 


NOR  ALL  YOUK  TEARS 


him  and  his  companion  a  respectful  and  hearty 
greeting. 

"Dear,  dear  me,  sir!  Why,  you  must  have  the 
sight  of  a  owl  to  have  got  over  the  roads  to-night ! 
It  have  been  a  storm,  but  it's  wearin'  itself  out  this 
part,  now.  Sir  Grenvil,  he  have  sent  down  from  the 
Lodge  twice,  sir,  and  hardly  a  horse  been  able  to 
stand." 

"I  want  you  to  find  one  that  will  stand  now, 
anyway,  Hanson ;  and  to  allow  this  lady  to  rest  a 
little  while  in  your  parlour." 

"  Why,  most  certainly,  Mr  Wingate.  My  old  horse 
Tom,  and  the  rough  cart — they  don't  mind  no  sort 
of  weather  1  This  way,  sir.  Now,  ma'am,  I'll  send  my 
wife  to  you.** 

"  And  I  am  going  to  send  you  some  mulled  wine, 
which  I  really  insist  upon  you  drinking,"  added 
Wingate,  as  he  followed  the  host  out  of  the  room. 

It  was  fully  twenty  minutes  before  he  returned,  and 
in  the  meantime  Mrs  Hanson  had  managed  to  dry 
Valerie's  boots  a  little,  and  to  remove  all  traces  of 
snow  and  dirt  from  her  clothes. 

When  Valerie  found  herself  comfortably  seated  in 
the  cart,  wrapped  round  with  many  rugs,  she  saw 
that  Wingate  was  mounting  to  the  seat  beside  her. 

**  You  are  coming  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Unless  you  object." 

"No,  of  course  not!  But — you  will  never  get 
home  yourself  —  Mrs  Hanson  told  me  that  it  is 
nearly  seven  miles  to  Dale ! " 

"  And  if  it  were  seventy  I  should  see  you  safely 
there.  You  are  in  my  charge,  you  know,  Miss  ..." 

M I  am  Valerie  Drummond — I  am  going  to  my 
aunts,  the  Misses  Drummond,  at  Dale." 

Wingate  lifted  his  cap  again,  as  he  took  the  reins 
52 


NOE  ALL  YOUE  TEAES 


into  one  hand,  and  the  next  moment  the  horse,  feeling 
its  head  free,  started  forward. 

It  was  perforce  a  long  and  a  cold  drive,  and  even 
in  the  rough  cart  behind  "  Tom,"  who  scorned  to  be 
upset  by  the  weather,  it  was  not  an  easy  one. 
Wingate  had  to  devote  his  whole  attention  to  the 
animal,  and  conversation  was  very  nearly  impossible 
in  the  howling  wind. 

"  I  wish  I  could  have  got  you  a  better  conveyance," 
he  managed  to  say,  once ;  but  Valerie  shook  her 
head,  and  declared  she  was  quite  comfortable. 

She  was  thinking  to  herself  that  she  hoped  he  knew 
no  one  belonging  to  her  world  that  she  had  left 
behind  ;  he  was  wondering  if  Grenvil  Delmar,  the  man 
at  whose  house,  here,  he  was  staying,  knew  the  Misses 
Drummond,  and  hoping  that  he  did.  The  name 
recalled  certain  memories  vaguely ;  he  was  not  clear 
what  they  were,  but  he  was  certain  that  it  was  very 
familiar  to  him. 

"  Can  you  just  distinguish  that  huge,  white  thing 
that  looks  like  a  small  mountain?"  he  asked,  by 
and  by,  pointing  with  his  whip.  "  Well,  that  is  a 
cliff,  and  the  house  you  want  lies  just  this  side 
of  it" 

The  next  moment  he  was  shouting  lustily  to  the 
lodge-keeper,  with  evidently  little  effect  The  gates 
were  closed,  but  no  one  came  to  open  them,  and 
finally  Wingate  got  down  and  opened  them  himself. 
A  large,  white  house  faced  them,  a  house  in  which 
there  was  no  sign  of  light  or  life.  The  cart  came  to  a 
halt  at  the  door. 

"  Is  it  very  late  ? "  inquired  Valerie.  "  I  believe 
everyone  has  gone  to  bed  ! " 

Wingate  looked  at  his  watch  by  the  light  of  a 
match. 

53 


NOK  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 


"  It  is  five  minutes  to  twelve.  Did  they  not  expect 
you  ? " 

"  I  wired — early." 

"  They  may  not  have  received  it.  The  storm,  you 
know.  We  must  rouse  someone."  And  he  went  up 
the  two  wide  steps  and  hammered  on  the  door  loudly. 

Valerie  was  shivering  a  little  when  he  returned 
to  her. 

"  You  are  cold  ?  "  he  said. 

"  No  ;  it  looks  so  dark,  and  cheerless — I  am  almost 
afraid " 

The  sound  of  slow  footsteps  within,  the  ringing 
of  a  bell,  also  within,  and  the  scraping  of  heavy 
bolts  came  to  them.  Valerie  turned  to  her  companion 
with  out-stretched  hand,  and  a  little  grateful,  yet 
wistful  smile. 

"  How  can  I  thank  you  enough  ?  But  for  you  I 
should  be  in  that  wretched  train  still  1  Thank  you, 
so  much  more  than  I  can  say." 

"  Please  do  not,  it  has  been  a  very  great  pleasure  to 
help  you  even  so  little.  May  I  ..." 

"  Well,  if  it's  anybody  that  wants  to  come  in,  why 
don't  they  come?"  demanded  a  thin,  peevish  voice 
from  the  half-open  doorway — a  voice  that  Valerie 
soon  learned  belonged  to  Upton. 

"  It  is  Miss  Drummond,  who  has  been  delayed  by 
the  storm,"  Wingate  replied,  with  a  touch  of  severity 
in  his  voice.  Instinctively,  he  caught  himself  giving 
some  explanation  of  her  late  arrival 

The  door  opened  more  widely.  Upton  drew  the 
overcoat  which  he  had  donned  in  haste  more  closely 
about  him,  and  held  the  flickering  candle  high  above 
his  head. 

"  Good-bye,"  murmured  Valerie  again,  as  she  drew 
her  hand  from  his  and  hurried  up  the  steps. 

54 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEAES 


She  was  in  the  hall,  the  door  was  closed,  and  she 
was  following  Upton,  whose  very  back,  the  heels  of 
whose  very  slippers,  bristled  with  indignation.  She 
was  being  taken  up  a  broad  flight  of  heavily  carpeted 
stain,  at  the  top  of  which  two  tall,  angular  women 
stood  close  together,  in  flannel  wrappers  held  tightly 
round  their  thin  forms,  with  their  grey  hair  falling 
limply  over  their  shoulders,  with  their  eyes  fixed  on 
Valerie's  face  wonderingly,  disapprovingly.  Upton, 
with  his  eyes  discreetly  bent  upon  the  floor,  retired. 
And  then  Valerie  spoke. 

"  I — I — am  so  sorry ! "  she  murmured,  in  a  voice 
from  which  all  the  courage  had  fled.  "There  was 
no  sign  of  a  storm  when  I  started ;  and  here  it 
was  terrible.  I " 

"Your  arrival  in  this — er — haste,  to-day  of  all 
days,  is  certainly  a  little  unfortunate,"  observed 
Miss  Angela,  frigidly.  "We  quite  thought  you 
would  wait  to  hear  from  us.  I  am  your  Aunt 
Angela,  this  is  your  Aunt  Hermione." 

Valerie  presented  a  timid  hand  and  cheek  to  each. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  she  began  again;  but  Miss  Drummond 
interrupted  with  a  shiver. 

"  Will  you  come  into  my  room  a  moment  ?  It 
is  certainly  less  chilly  than  out  here."  And  Valerie 
followed  both  women  to  a  bedroom  on  the  right 
It  was  dimly  lighted  by  one  candle,  the  fire  had 
gone  out,  and  the  bed  hid  itself  behind  dark  brocaded 
curtains.  Her  aunts  sat  upon  the  edge  of  it  and 
regarded  her  somewhat  sternly. 

"  You  started  before  receiving  our  telegram,  then  ?  " 
Miss  Drummond  said. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  came  at  once,  as  soon  as  I  had  sent 
you  word.  I — I — did  not  think  that  you  would  not 
want  me,  or  I  would  have  waited." 

55 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  We  suggested  that  you  should  come  on  Friday." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  breathed  Valerie,  without  originality 
but  with  genuine  regret  "You  had  invited  me, 
you  know,  and  left  me  to  decide,  I  thought,  upon 
accepting  the  invitation,  and  it — it — seemed  best 
for  me  to  come  at  once."  One  sister  was  looking 
"  I  told  you  so "  at  the  other,  and  Valerie  was 
standing,  a  sweet,  hesitating  figure,  before  them. 
"  You — you  are  not  vexed  ?  " 

"Not  vexed — no,"  said  Miss  Angela,  who  had 
no  idea  that  she  was  not  telling  the  truth.  "We 
are  not  quite  used  to  being  swooped  down  upon 
as  though  we  were  hotel  proprietors.  However, 
there  it  is,  and  since  you  are  here  you  are  welcome," 
stiffly. 

Valerie  bit  her  lip  and  coloured  ;  but  she  managed 
to  crush  back  the  natural  retort  that  trembled  on 
her  tongue's  tip,  and  to  murmur  "Thank  you." 

"  But,"  said  Miss  Drummond,  "  I  don't  understand 
how  you  managed  to  get  here  at  all." 

"  I  got  a  trap  at  the  '  Hare  and  Hounds,'  Mitching ; 
at  least,  a  fellow-traveller  whom  I  met  in  the  train, 
and  who  helped  me  very  kindly,  got  it  for  me." 

"  But  how  did  you  get  to  Mitching  ?  It  is  six 
miles  by  rail,  and  we  were  told  the  line  was  blocked." 

"  It  was.  How  far  up  or  down  the  line,  I  don't 
know.  It  meant  staying  and  freezing  in  the  train 
all  alone  for  the  night,  or  letting  him  take  me  with 
him  to  the  inn." 

"  What  1 "  The  single  word  left  both  pair  of  lips 
simultaneously ;  the  tone  in  which  it  was  uttered 
defies  description.  Both  ladies  got  off  the  bed's 
edge  and  sank  into  chairs,  and  Valerie  took  this 
as  permission  to  be  seated  herself. 

u  It  isn't  so  far,  if  you  know  the  short  cuts  across 
56 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


country,"  she  said  swiftly ;  and  as  they  were  silent, 
only  questioning  her  with  their  pale  eyes,  she  went 
on  :  "  /  don't,  of  course,  but  he  did — I  daresay  he 
lives  about  here — he  said  he  was  staying  somewhere 
near,  anyhow.  He  offered  to  take  me  to  Mitching, 
and  I  was  only  too  glad  to  accept  his  assistance." 

Miss  Drummond  was  startled  into  murmuring, 
"  Good  heavens ! " 

And    her    sister    added,   "  Do    you   mean   to   tell 
me  that  you  left  the  train  with  an  unknown  man  \ 
and  walked    miles  across  the  country  with  him  at, 
perhaps,  eleven  o'clock  at  night\" 
Valerie  nodded. 
"  Why  not  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Why  not  ?  Have  you  no  sense  of  the  fitness 
of  things  ?  " 

"It  was  a  good  deal  better  than  stopping  in  the 
train  alone,  when  all  the  passengers  and  officials  had 
left  it,  and  being,  perhaps,  robbed  and  murdered ! " 
"  Nonsense !     Some  nice  lady — or  a  man  with  his 

wife  and " 

"Oh,  this  man  may  have  a  wife  and  a  dozen 
children  for  all  I  know,"  laughed  Valerie.  "  I  can't 
see  that  it  makes  the  least  difference." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  with  asperity ;  "  but  it  would  have 
been  at  least  more — more — respectable." 

"  I  don't  understand  you,  Aunt  Angela.  There  is 
an  accident  I  am  stranded,  and  my  companion — a 
man — is  kind  enough  to  show  me  the  way  to  the 
nearest  town.  He  finds  me  a  horse  and  trap, 
and  is  also  kind  enough  to  drive  me  here.  Would 
not  you  have  done  as  I  did  in  similar  circum- 
stances ?  " 

"  Never  1 "  breathed  Miss  Hermione. 
"But  why  not?" 

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NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  My  dear  Valerie  1  With  a  man — alone — at  that 
hour!" 

"Man  or  woman,  what  does  it  matter  so  long  as 
it  was  company  and  someone  who  knew  the  way? 
What  would  you  have  been  afraid  of?" 

Miss  Angela  stretched  her  scraggy  throat  in  an 
effort  to  swallow  more  easily ;  Miss  Hermione  looked 
at  their  niece  hard,  and  both  ladies  decided  to  drop 
the  subject 

"Your  rooms  are  prepared,  though  we  did  not 
expect  you  till  Friday,"  one  of  the  sisters  said, 
rising.  "You  will  like  to  go  to  them  now." 

Miss  Angela  moved  to  the  door,  Valerie  following ; 
but  when  she  reached  it,  she  turned  back.  Her 
cheeks  were  flushed,  her  lovely  eyes  very  full  of 
tears.  Her  heart  cried  aloud  for  some  little  touch 
of  love,  of  sympathy — her  tender  heart,  that  had 
been  so  recently  and  deeply  wounded. 

"  Don't  be  angry  with  me ! "  she  pleaded. 

"We  are  not  angry,  Valerie,  but  we  hope  that 
in  the  future  you  will  conduct  yourself  with — with 
— more  decorum." 

"  Aunt  Angela,  Aunt  Hermione,  I — I — will  try  to 
be — to  do  what  you  wish.  I  am,  after  all,  your 
brother's  child.  I " 

"  I  think,"  said  Angela,  "  that  we  are  likely  to  be 
reminded  of  that  very  forcibly." 

Then  Valerie  went  out  of  the  room,  and  her  heart, 
that  could  have  been  made  to  soften  towards  them 
now  and  for  ever,  grew  hard.  Her  gentler  mood  was 
gone.  Her  desire  to  try  to  be  what  t.ey  wished 
never  came  to  her  again. 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


VI 


VALERIE  slept  the  sleep  of  one  who  is  worn 
out  mentally  and  bodily ;  all  through  the 
night  she  dreamed  of  trains  that  would 
not  move  onward,  of  dim  country  roads, 
of  a  hard-visaged  pair  of  women  whose  very  voices 
sent  a  chill  to  her  heart.  And  in  the  morning  she 
woke  unrefreshed,  to  find  that  she  had  but  twenty 
minutes  in  which  to  dress. 

While  she  filled  the  bath,  a  housemaid  informed 
her  that  breakfast  was  at  nine,  and  that  the  Misses 
Drummond  were  generally  downstairs  at  half-past 
eight,  winter  and  summer. 

Valerie,  who  had  never  had  breakfast  at  a  table 
in  her  life,  who  had  been  accustomed  ever  since  she 
could  remember  to  having  her  tray  brought  to  her 
room,  to  reading,  in  later  years,  the  newspapers 
between  her  sips  of  coffee,  and  to  getting  through 
her  toilette  somewhere  about  noon,  felt  as  though 
the  maid  had  emptied,  by  mistake,  the  can  of  cold 
water  down  her  back  instead  of  into  the  bath. 

To  be  down  at  half-past  eight !  It  would  require 
months  of  practice !  Her  luggage  had  not  yet 
arrived,  and  she  feared  to  don  the  white  kimono, 
with  black  stalks  strutting  about  all  over  it,  that 
reposed  in  her  dressing-bag,  and  which  was  the  only 
gown  she  possessed  at  the  present  moment,  except 
the  one  in  which  she  had  arrived  last  night  That, 
however,  had  been  very  carefully  brushed  by  an 
admiring  housemaid,  who  seldom  saw  anything  of 

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NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


the  kind,  and  was  seized  upon  gratefully  by  Valerie, 
as  she  heard  the  clock  striking  nine. 

Arrived  in  the  lower  hall,  Upton  informed  her  that 
"  the  dining-room  "  was  "  through  the  narrow  passage 
on  the  right,"  in  acid  tones,  for  which  she  wished  she 
might  have  boxed  his  ears.  Contenting  herself  with 
hoping  that  he  would  trip  up  with  the  tray,  she  found 
her  way  thither,  and  was  considerably  relieved  to 
discover  that  she  was,  after  all,  the  first  to  arrive. 

Her  aunts,  coming  in  a  few  moments  later,  paused 
for  a  long  moment  after  their  "good-morning,"  and 
evidently  forgot  their  breakfast,  as  well  as  that  it  is 
impolite  to  stare.  Miss  Angela  moved  a  restless 
hand  across  her  eyes,  as  though  something  in  the 
girl's  beauty  dazzled  them  unpleasantly.  Valerie 
stood  with  her  back  to  the  fire,  fastening  a  hook  at 
her  wrist-band,  while,  with  her  head  slightly  bent, 
she  looked  up  under  her  lids  from  one  severe  face 
to  the  other. 

This  was  the  girl  who  was  to  be  dependent  upon 
them  for  a  time,  this  the  girl  for  whom  they  were 
to  find  employment  (the  bare  thought  presented 
difficulties  already),  this  the  girl  who  would,  they 
had  decided,  submit  to  their  management !  This 
the  girl  who  should  humbly  and  gladly  snatch  at 
their  offer  of  a  home,  who,  they  supposed,  had  been 
living  in  miserable  dingy  "  rooms,"  and  who,  they  had 
secretly  hoped,  would  know  how  to  behave  herself 
when  she  took  up  her  residence  beneath  their  roof! 
This  the  woman !  who  stood  before  them  now, 
beautiful  with  a  beauty  so  uncommon  that  it  was 
painfully  apparent  even  to  their  unwilling  eyes ; 
gowned  in  dull  black — but  black  of  such  style,  such 
perfect  cut — black  which  began  in  a  little  soft,  filmy- 
bit  of  transparent  lace  at  her  throat  and  across  her 

60 


NOR  ALL  YOUE  TEARS 


chest,  and  set  closely  to  her  perfect  figure,  and  ended 
at  her  feet  in  a  narrow  border  of  fox  fur !  Black 
which  enhanced  the  whiteness  of  her  skin,  and,  more 
than  all,  the  rich  copper  tint  of  her  wonderful  hair 
that,  with  the  flickering  light  of  the  fire  upon  it, 
shone  like  threads  of  gold  in  a  red  sunset !  This  the 
woman !  whose  every  movement  was  full  of  grace, 
and  gave  indication  of  perfect  ease ;  and  who  now 
seemed  to  be  waiting  for  them  to  speak,  with  her 
soft  eyes,  that  held  a  mingling  of  merriment  and 
quaint  half  fear,  fixed  disconcertingly  upon  first  one 
hard  face  and  then  the  other ! 

Miss  Angela  cleared  her  throat. 

"  Did  you  sleep  well  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  Pretty  well,  thank  you."  Valerie  was  waiting  for 
them  to  be  seated,  and  then  took  her  place  at  the 
side  of  the  table,  between  them. 

"  It  would  have  been  better  if  I  had  not  dreamed 
that  your  butler  would  not  let  me  in,  and  that  the 
snow  was  freezing  me." 

There  was  no  answering  smile  to  this  allusion  to 
last  night's  arrival,  and  Valerie  sipped  her  coffee  in 
silence. 

"Perhaps,"  suggested  Miss  Hermione,  "you  did 
not  have  sufficient  blankets?" 

"  Oh,  I  was  very  comfortable,  thank  you." 

Silence  again,  broken  only  by  the  crunching  of  Miss 
Angela's  toast  Her  niece,  while  seeming  to  attend 
only  to  her  breakfast,  was  studying  both  ladies  care- 
fully. They  were  sufficiently  alike  to  be  instantly 
recognised  as  sisters ;  they  were  tall,  angular  women, 
who  wore  their  old-fashioned  garments  with  an  air  of 
superiority  and  triumph,  tipped  with  a  little  pitying 
scorn  for  those  of  their  sex  who  were  differently 
attired.  They  had  iron  grey  hair,  fresh  complexions, 

61 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


pale  blue  eyes  fringed  with  light  brown  lashes,  thin, 
straight  mouths,  and  good,  white,  even  teeth.  They 
wore  prim,  dark  dresses,  almost  guiltless  of  trimming, 
short,  full  skirts,  and  flat-heeled,  square-toed  boots. 

Altogether  they  were  so  unlike  any  women  she 
had  ever  known,  so  unlike  anyone  she  could  have 
imagined  belonging  to  her  father's  family,  that  for  a 
moment  Valerie  felt  a  little  chill  creeping  over  her. 
She  had  not  forgotten  her  reception  last  night  She 
would  never  forget  it,  and  the  memory  would 
prejudice  her  against  these  women  all  her  life. 

After  breakfast,  Miss  Hermione  invited  her  to 
come  to  the  morning-room. 

"Angela  does  most  of  the  housekeeping,"  she  said. 
"  She  goes  to  see  Barker  now,  but  if  you  will  come 
with  me,  Valerie,  I  should  like  to  talk  to  you.  Can 
you  bear  to  tell  me  a  little  about  your  father,  and 
yourself,"  she  added,  when  they  were  seated  in  a 
rather  bare,  cheerless  room  which  seemed  to  look 
on  to  the  wall  that  possibly  surrounded  a  kitchen 
garden.  "  You  see,"  with  that  tone  coming  into  her 
voice  which  suggested  always  to  Valerie's  ears 
sarcasm  veiled  with  a  little  lame  playfulness,  "we 
really  know  so  little  about  either."  The  tears  came 
thickly  into  the  girl's  eyes  at  the  mention  of  her 
father,  and  for  a  moment  she  did  not  answer. 

"  If  it  makes  you  cry,"  began  Miss  Hermione, 
without  much  sympathy;  but  Valerie  interrupted  a 
little  sharply — 

"  I  am  not  going  to  cry.  What  is  it  you  want  to 
know?" 

It  was  not  exactly  an  encouraging  speech,  or  one 
prettily  put ;  and  her  aunt  set  her  lips  tightly,  while 
the  deep  hollows  at  her  temples  seemed  to  grow 
deeper. 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  I  understood  Mr  Grattan  to  say  that  your  father 
left  nothing — not  even  a  little  for  you." 

"  He  left  nothing  for  me  or  for  anyone.  He  had 
nothing  to  leave.  He  never  made  much  money,  and 
what  he  did  make  he  spent  and  gave  away  most 
generously.  He  never  refused  any  who  were  in 
need.  He  was  a  splendid  artist,  but  he  could  not 
get  many  people  to  believe  it ;  and  besides,  I  don't 
think  he  ever  cared  much,  after  mother  died." 

"  That,  at  anyrate,  was  twenty  years  ago,"  returned 
Miss  Hermione,  with  slightly  uplifted  brows,  that 
somehow  had  the  effect  of  irritating  her  niece. 

"  And  what  of  it  ?  I  suppose  a  man  may  be  faith- 
ful to  even  a  memory  for  twenty  years — though  it  is 
rarely  that  he  is  faithful  to  a  living  creature  for  as 
many  weeks,"  she  added,  with  a  touch  of  unconscious 
bitterness  that  made  her  aunt  look  up  sharply. 
Valerie  caught  the  look,  remembered  what  she  had 
said,  and  coloured.  The  elder  lady  looked  exceed- 
ingly shocked. 

"  I  do  not  call  that  a  pretty  speech,"  she  said, 
stiffly. 

"  The  truth  is  seldom  pretty  or  pleasant,"  returned 
Valerie.  "  Anyway,  father  never  forgot  mother." 

"  I — we  only  saw  your  mother  once.  She  was  a 
very  remarkable  looking  woman ;  you  are  very  like 
her." 

"  Oh,  I  shall  never  be  half  so  lovely.  I  have  seen 
pictures  of  her ;  Marshall  and  his  wife,  and  Bertha, 
our  servants,  you  know,  told  me  of  her  often.  They 
say " 

"  Did  you  keep  three  servants  ?  " 

"Yes,"  indifferently,  "lately.  We  had  not  room 
for  more,  after  we  went  to  live  at  the  studio." 

"  Oh  !  I  suppose  you  managed  to  help  your  father 
63 


NOK  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


In  some  ways — otherwise ; "  curiously,  "  you  must  have 
found  it  a  little  dull." 

"Dull!  With  father,  and  all  the  students  ever- 
lastingly in  and  out  of  the  place !  Oh,  it  was  never 
dull !  The  house  was  full  from  morning  till  night, 
and  generally  from  night  till  morning." 

"  Indeed !  I  should  imagine  that  sort  of  life  was 
neither  conducive  to  work  nor  to  the  saving  of 
money ;  nor  can  it  have  been  particularly  good  for 
a  young  girl." 

"Well,  as  I've  told  you,  father  never  could  save 
money ;  and  as  for  work,  why,  he  was  one  of  those 
happy-go-lucky,  sweet-natured  creatures  who  ought  to 
have  had  millions  with  which  to  do  good,  and  never 
have  been  obliged  to  do  a  day's  work  except  for  his 
own  pleasure." 

"  I  think,  Valerie,  that  you  cannot  be  aware 
that  you  are  talking  very  foolishly.  Our  lives  are 
ordered,  set  out,  and  there  is  work  of  some  sort 
for  us  all.  I  do  not  wish  to  say  anything  that 
you  might  think  unkind  about  your  father,  now 
that  he  is  dead  ..." 

M  No,  please  don't ! "  advised  Valerie,  in  a  tone  that 
warned  even  Miss  Hermione  to  pick  her  words 
carefully. 

"...  now  that  he  is  dead.  But  one  has  no  right 
to  be  idle  when  there  is  work  to  do,  no  right  to  be 
generous  to  others  when  there  are  one's  own  to 
think  o£  I  hope  you  will  take  that  to  heart,  and 
remember,  that  in  earning  your  own  living,  which  you 
will  have  to  do  presently,  it  is  your  duty  to  look  to 
the  future,  to  put  by  for  illness,  or  old  age,  so  that 
you  may  never  be  a  burden  upon  anyone." 

Valerie  coloured  to  the  roots  of  her  lovely  hair,  not 
with  shame,  but  with  anger,  and  with  the  wild  effort  she 

64 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 


made  to  check  the  words  that  rose  to  her  lips. 
How  she  would  grow  to  hate  these  women !  She 
felt  it.  With  every  word  they  spoke,  she  knew 
she  should  have  hard  work  to  be  civil  to  them 
for  a  week. 

"  Which  reminds  me,"  she  returned,  a  touch  of 
haughtiness  creeping  into  her  voice,  "that  you  told 
Mr  Grattan  you  and  Aunt  Angela  were  willing  to 
help  me  to  look  for  work.  I  am  afraid  I  shall  have  to 
trouble  you  to  do  this,  because  I  have  not  the  least 
idea  of  setting  about  it  myself." 

u  It  will  be  no  trouble.  Your  Aunt  Angela  and  I 
will  be  glad  to  help  you.  But  at  the  same  time  we 
are  willing  to  keep  you  here  for  the  present — till  you 
have  time  to  recover  a  little  from  your  loss.  So  we 
will  talk  about  the  work  later  on.  What  is  there 
for  which  you  have  a  fancy  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  there  is  nothing.  What  are  the 
employments  for  women,  to-day  ?  " 

"The  lady-like  employments,"  corrected  Miss 
Hermione, 

Valerie  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  If  by  lady-like,  you  mean  teaching  little  children, 
or  acting  as  companion  to  old  people,  I  don't  think  I 
have  a  fancy  that  way  at  all.  I  am  certain  that  I 
should  simply  loathe  it !  Moreover,  the  little  ones 
would  bowl  me  out  in  one  day — I  couldn't  teach  a 
thing  of  three !  And  besides  that,  the  governess  and 
companion  business  are  quite  out  of  date — they've- 
vanished  since  you  were  young,  Aunt  Hermione.  I 
think  I  could  look  after  peoples'  dogs,  or  their  horses, 
and  I  could  superintend  the  sending  up  of  a  dinner. 
Then  to  hark  back  to  '  shop ' — I  had  not  thought  of 
it  before,  but  there's  quite  an  art  in  being  a  good 
model" 

63  » 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  Valerie  /"  Miss  Hermione's  thin  hands  went  up  in 
horror,  her  fine  nostrils  spread  in  indignation, 

"  I  expect  you've  heard  silly  things  about  them," 
said  the  youngest  Miss  Drummond  easily,  but  her 
aunt  waved  wildly  for  silence. 

"  What  I  have  heard  has  not  been  '  silly ' !  I 
request  you  not  to  mention  those — er — objectionable 
sort  of  people  again.  Would  you  like  to  go  out," 
with  sudden  inspiration  and  change  of  tone.  "  We 
do  not  have  luncheon  till  two ;  and  the  sea  is  quite 
handy — if  you  like  the  sea." 

"  I  love  it." 

"  Then  go  if  you  like,  and  make  its  acquaintance  at 
Dale.  I  expect  you  have  been  used  to  going  out 
alone  ?  In  my  young  days  girls  did  not  go  out  unless 
accompanied  by  a  maid  ;  but,  as  you  reminded  me 
just  now,  those  old-fashioned  prejudices  which  should 
be  natural,  born  of — er — niceness,  have  vanished  with 
the  lady-like  employments  for  women  !  Wrap  your- 
self up  warmly ;  the  winds  are  very  cold  here." 

"The  winds  are  not  colder  than  their  hearts," 
thought  Valerie,  as  she  went  up  to  her  rooms.  Her 
own  heart  was  chilled.  This  life  was  going  to  be 
so  much  harder  than  she  had  thought.  Indeed,  she 
had  thought  about  it  very  little.  She  had  come 
here  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment ;  and  now,  the 
memory  of  what  had  driven  her  to  seek  the  safety 
of  the  home  offered  to  her,  brought  the  hot  colour 
to  her  face.  Yesterday  all  had  been  haste  and 
bustle,  her  one  desire  to  get  away,  quite  away, 
from  her  own  world.  Then  she  had  thought  of  her 
aunts'  home  as  a  refuge — she  had  thought  that  she 
might  dwell  there  in  peace  and  seclusion,  and  none 
would  ever  know  that  she  had  been  shamed  and 
humiliated  as  she  had  been  that  day.  Then  she 

66 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 


refused  to  give  herself  time  to  think,  lest  she  should 
be  tempted  into  drawing  back ;  now  she  knew  that 
she  had  had  many  hours  in  which  to  think  and 
reflect,  and  she  began  to  realise  a  little  what  this 
new  life  would  be. 

Already  she  felt  resentment  towards  the  women 
who  had  opened  their  doors  to  her.  She  dreaded 
their  questions,  their  severe  glances.  Her  blood  boiled 
at  their  little  half  bantering,  half  bitter  remarks, 
tipped  always  with  some  tone  that  suggested  a 
perfect  sense  of  their  own  moral  superiority  over 
their  fellows.  Yet  a  deeper  flush  spread  over  her 
face  at  the  knowledge  which  came  to  her  like  a 
blow,  that  if  these  women  could  see  right  into 
her  heart,  if  the  pages  of  the  last  year  of  her  life 
could  be  unfolded  before  their  hard  eyes,  they  would 
take  her  by  the  shoulders  and  put  her  far  outside 
their  doors.  They  would  never  give  her  pity  or 
sympathy ;  they  would  only  give  her  scorn.  She 
had  made  up  her  mind  to  forget — she  had  begun 
to  find  out  already  that  forgetfulness  was  not  so 
easy.  She  was  honest  and  truthful  by  nature,  and, 
first  of  all,  it  shamed  her,  it  lowered  her  in  her  own 
sight,  to  know  that  she  was  dishonest  to  those  to 
whom  she  owed  her  very  bread.  They  took  her 
into  their  home  because  they  did  not  know — they 
would  never  know — she  had  no  right  to  resent 
anything  they  said  or  did.  In  that  hateful  knowledge 
lay  the  sting  which  must  for  ever  rob  life  of  its 
sweetness,  which  must  for  ever  take  from  her  life 
its  chief  joys. 

"  I  have  been  talking  to  Valerie,"  announced 
Miss  Hermione,  when,  half  an  hour  later,  her  sister 
joined  her.  "  She  has  gone  for  a  walk  on  the  cliff. 
I  have  been  talking  to  her,  and — and — do  you  know, 

67 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


Angela,  I  am  afraid  the  girl  has  not  a — a — nice  mind. 
She  has  a  freedom  of  manner,  too,  which  I  suppose 
she  acquired  in  the  studio.  I  begin  to  fear  that  we 
shall  never  find  her  nice  work,  or  that  if  she  gets 
it,  she  will  never  keep  it" 

"She  certainly  will  not  if  she  does  her  hair  in 
that  remarkable  style,  and  wears  such — such — very 
peculiar  gowns.  /  call  that  dress  she  has  on  to-day 
almost  indecent,  and  quite  unsuited  for  breakfast ! " 

"  Her  luggage  has  not  arrived,  you  know,  Angela,*1 
said  Miss  Drummond,  who  prided  herself  on  being 
strictly  just. 

Angela,  who  was  obstinate,  tightened  her  thin  lips 
into  a  straight  line,  and  shrugged  one  lean  shoulder 
upwards. 

"  I  discovered  that  Jack  had  a  house  in  Chelsea ! 
They  kept  three  servants,  lately,  and  formerly, 
evidently  more.  Whilst  we  pictured  him  struggling 
for  a  living,  they  were  living  in  luxury ! " 

"My  dear  Hermione,  while  Jack  was  her  father, 
you  must  not  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  she'd  a 
mother  too ;  from  what  we  know  of  her,  we  must 
not  expect  too  much  of  the  daughter ! " 

Miss  Hermione  nodded.  She  also  said  something 
more  about  duty;  and  then,  with  a  sigh,  she  took 
up  her  work-basket 


68 


NOE  ALL  YOUE  TEAES 


VII 

i 

MEANTIME    Valerie    was    mounting    the 
narrow  path  which  led  straight  from  the 
Dale  grounds    to  the    top  of  the    cliff. 
Arrived  at  the  highest  point,  she  paused 
and  turned  her  face  to  the  keen  salt  breeze.     It  was 
glorious,  it  gave  her  new  life ;  yet  it  brought  a  touch 
of  sadness  to  her  heart     There  was  something  in  the 
utter  loneliness,  in  the  stretch  of  bare,  deserted  beach, 
which  seemed  in  perfect  harmony  with  her  lonely  life. 
The    dull     roar    of    the    waves,    their    melancholy, 
backward  wash,  the  sullen  sky  above,  and  behind  her 
the  dim,  deserted  land — they  were  like  her  moods. 

She  stood  for  a  long  while  with  her  face  towards 
the  breeze ;  it  blew  her  hair  into  little  moist  rings, 
and  tried  vainly  to  unsettle  her  small  hat  And  it 
did  something  more,  it  brought  to  her  nostrils,  beside 
the  fresh,  salt  smell  that  she  loved,  the  unmistakable 
odour  of  a  most  admirable  cigar  (Valerie  was  a  judge) 
— a  cigar  which  someone  was  certainly  smoking  close 
at  hand.  There  was  another  path  below  hers,  and 
curiosity  prompting  her,  she  leant  far  forward,  at  the 
risk  of  overbalancing.  In  the  heavy  white  sea-mist 
her  eyes  met  other  eyes  that  were  not  quite  strange 
to  her ;  they  rested  upon  a  face  that  she  remembered 
perfectly,  that  had  upon  it  the  glow  of  splendid  health ; 
the  features  of  which  were  clear-cut  and  strong,  the 
keen  eyes,  that  she  was  sure  could  be  terrible  in  anger, 
and  soft  as  a  woman's  in  tenderness,  grey-blue.  She 

69 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


was  looking  down,  silently,  upon  the  man  who  had 
piloted  her  to  Mitching  last  night,  and  afterwards 
driven  her  to  Dale.  And  she  gave  such  a  start  that 
he  put  up  a  quick  warning  hand. 

"  Be  careful !  "  he  said  sharply.  A  moment  later 
he  came  round  by  a  cut  in  the  cliff  and  was  at  her 
side. 

"  I  was  afraid  you  were  going  to  fall !  Good 
morning,  Miss  Drummond,"  holding  out  his  hand. 
"  I  was  just  coming  to  Dale  to  find  out  whether  that 
servant  with  the  vicious  little  voice  had  eaten  you  !  I 
really  hardly  liked  leaving  you  with  him." 

"  Coming  to  Dale  !  "  with  real  consternation  in  her 
voice.  "  Oh,  please  don't  do  that — never  do  that — 
at  least  to — to — see  me." 

"Thank  you!" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  it  rudely  or  inhospitably,"  she 
said,  with  quick  distress.  "  Only — they — my  aunts 
would  not  like  it.  They  were  awfully  annoyed 
because  I  walked  with  you  to  Mitching  last  night, 
and  you  drove  me  home  afterwards." 

"  Indeed  ! "  Wingate's  eyebrows  were  lifted  a  little, 
and  there  was  a  smile  about  the  corners  of  his  mouth. 
"  They  have  some  peculiar  notions  as  to  how  you 
should  have  spent  your  time,  then." 

"  They  have ;  they  would  have  preferred  that  I 
remained  in  the  train  till  morning.  But  tell  me," 
quickly,  "  how  did  you  get  back  over  those  horrible 
roads?  I  thought  about  you  every  time  I  woke  in 
the  night,  and  how  you  must  have  hated  me  during 
the  return  journey." 

"That  was  good  of  you — to  think  of  me,  I  mean. 
For  the  rest,  you  are  quite  at  fault.  I  cannot  imagine 
anyone  hating  you.  So  you  think  I  had  better  not 
call  at  Dale?  Not  even  if  I  come  with  Delmar? — 

70 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


he  is  the  man  I  am  staying  with,  not  very  far  from 
here — who,  having  met  the  Misses  Drummond  three 
years  ago  at  a  church  concert,  could  make  that  quite 
sufficient  excuse  for  bringing  me  to  see  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  if  you  come  with  your  friend  I  have  nothing 
to  do  with  it" 

"  Pardon  me,  you  would  have  everything  to  do 
with  it." 

"  But  my  aunts  would  not  know  that,"  she  re- 
turned, looking  up  at  him  amusedly  under  her  lashes. 

In  the  broad  light  of  day  he  thought  her 
even  more  lovely  than  he  had  thought  her  last 
night  Beneath  gas  or  lamp  light  she  had  seemed 
a  trifle  too  white ;  in  the  rough  wind  her  cheeks 
gained  colour  and  her  eyes  brilliance.  Wingate  was 
trying  to  puzzle  out  their  colour. 

"  Are  you  going  for  a  walk  ?  he  asked  now,  and 
added,  before  she  could  reply,  "  Let  me  show  you 
the  quaintest  bit  of  the  sea-shore  for  miles." 

She  acquiesced  by  stepping  out  briskly  beside  him. 

"  So  you  don't  think  you  will  like  this  place  ? "  he 
questioned,  presently. 

"  Did  I  say  so  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  your  eyes  did  when  you  spoke  of  your 
aunts." 

"  They  are  very  tell-tale,  then." 

"  I  think  they  are.     Still,  I  am  right  ?  " 

"You  are  very  persistent.  But  if  you  want  to 
know,  really,  I  think  I  shall  hate  it.  The  place 
seems  sweet — it  is  the  narrow  life  I  shall  never 
endure." 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  told  me  your  name  last  night," 
he  said,  somewhat  irrelevantly.  "  I  was  afraid  you 
were  not  going  to.  You  only  said  you  were  going  to 
Dale,  which  was  not  much  to  go  upon." 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


M  To  go  upon  ?  " 

"  Miss  Drummond,"  with  a  little  frank  laugh  that 
was  very  pleasant,  "  I  am  nothing  if  not  truthful. 
When  we  were  in  the  train,  at  first,  I  thought  you 
might  be  going  to  visit  at  some  house  of,  perhaps, 
mutual  friends — I  hoped  you  were.  When  I  heard 
you  were  bound  for  Dale,  I  remembered  with  regret 
that  I  knew  not  a  living  soul  there,  and  I  concluded 
that  you  were  married,  and  going  to  your  own 
home." 

"Whatever  put  such  an  idea  into  your  head?" 
asked  Valerie,  annoyed  with  herself  because  she  felt 
that  her  cheeks  were  hot  beneath  his  glance. 

"  It  was  your  manner,  I  think ;  the  utter  absence 
of  any  silly  nonsense.  Oh,  you  know  what  I  mean — 
your  acceptance  of  the  situation,  and  my  protection 
for  the  moment,  with  the  very  charming  grace  of  a 
thorough  woman  of  the  world ;  not  with  either  the 
awkwardness  of  a  mere  inexperienced  girl,  or  with 
the  brusque  off-handedness  of  the  mannish  young 
lady  who  wears  a  very  short  skirt  and  a  Norfolk 
jacket,  and  .  .  .  but  what  is  amusing  you  ?  " 

Valerie  shook  her  head  ;  she  was  indulging  in  the 
first  long,  hearty  laugh  that  she  had  enjoyed  for 
several  days. 

"  I  was  wishing  Aunt  Hermione  could  hear  you  ?  n 

"  I  wish  you  liked  your  home  better,"  he  said,  with 
real  sympathy  that  brought  tears  to  her  eyes,  which 
tears  emboldened  him  to  put  a  gentle,  detaining  hand 
on  her  arm.  "Of  course  I  am  only  a  stranger  to 
you,"  he  added  swiftly,  almost  apologetically ;  "  but 
we  were  companions  in  misfortune  last  night — the 
sort  of  misfortune  with  which,  if  one  choose,  one  can 
bridge  over  a  good  gulf;  and — but  I  was  going  to 
tell  you  how  it  was  that  your  name,  directly  I  heard 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


it,  seemed  familiar  to  me.  I  knew  a  man — what  is 
the  matter  ? "  Valerie  had  come  to  a  sudden  halt, 
a  little  involuntary  cry  had  left  her  lips,  and  her  hand 
had  gone  out,  as  though  to  silence  him.  She  forced 
a  smile  at  his  hasty  question. 

"  Yes  ?  You  knew  a  man — do  I  remind  you  of 
him?" 

"  It  is  a  very  odd  thing  that  you  should  ask  me 
that,"  returned  Wingate.  "  In  a  way,  you  do.  It  is 
your  voice,  I  think.  It  is  years  ago,  twenty,  I  daresay, 
since  I  met  this  man  in  Rome.  His  name  was  the 
same  as  yours.  He  was  an  artist,  and  at  that  time 
terribly  down  on  his  luck.  He  had  just  lost  his  wife, 
poor  fellow — a  mere  girl,  whom  he  simply  worshipped ; 
and  she  had  left  him  with  a  little  helpless  infant  that 
he  seemed  at  his  wits'  ends  to  know  what  do  with.  I 
was  only  a  boy  myself  at  the  time,  but  I  remember 
being  deeply  impressed.  He  was  such  a  thorough 
good  chap.  But  I  never  saw  him  from  that  time  to 
this,  or  heard  of  him,  until,  quite  by  accident,  I  heard 
the  other  day  that  he  was  dead — only  a  few  weeks 
ago.  Why,"  looking  at  her  sharply,  and  with  great 
concern,  "  there  are  tears  in  your  eyes — what  a  brute 
I  am  !  I  have  made  you  cry !  .  .  .  " 

She  ran  the  back  of  one  little  bare  hand  swiftly 
across  her  eyes.  "He  was  my  father — that  is  all," 
she  explained  simply.  M  He  died  a  little  while  before 
I  came  here ;  and  I,"  with  a  little  watery  smile,  "  was 
that  helpless  infant !  Did  you  ever  see  me  ?  Was  I 
red  and  hideous  ?  "  Her  quick  transition  from  distress 
to  amusement  robbed  him  of  the  fear  that  he  had 
touched  on  very  dangerous  ground. 

M Is  it  possible ? "  he  said.  "Is  it  possible  that  in 
you  I  find  the  daughter  of  old  Jack  Drummond ! 
What  a  little  world  it  is  after  all !  You  cannot  refuse 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


to  be  friends  with  me  now,  Miss  Drummond,  you 
cannot  say  that  your  aunts  will  refuse  to  know  me. 
Remember  our  first  meeting  dates  back  to  twenty 
years  ago,  and  your  father  and  I  were  great  friends, 
though  we  lost  sight  of  each  other  after  he  left  Rome." 

"  You  never  met  him  afterwards  ?  "  she  questioned, 
with  a  touch  of  uneasiness.  "  You — you  —  never 
heard  of  him,  of  us,  in  London  ..." 

"  Never.  You  may  be  sure  I  should  have  hunted 
him  up.  But  then,  for  years,  I  have  lived  very 
little  in  England." 

"And  father  never  made  any  great  name."  A 
little  sigh  escaped  her,  not  for  the  failure  of  her  father 
only,  but  in  intense  gratitude  that  this  man  knew 
nothing  of  him  from  the  time  they  had  parted  in 
Rome.  It  was  very  pleasant  to  talk  with  someone 
to  whom  you  could  say  what  was  in  your  mind, 
without  weighing  every  word  first ;  it  was  nice  to  feel 
that  you  might  laugh  quite  aloud  ;  and  it  was  good 
to  hear  a  kindly  voice  that  had  no  ring  of  superiority, 
no  sarcasm  in  it.  But  for  all  that,  this  man's  presence 
was  like  a  breath  from  the  world  against  which  she 
had  turned  her  back  yesterday,  that  world  which  she 
wanted  to  forget  And  she  was  saying  to  herself — 

"This  is  coming  to  a  place  where  I  thought  I 
should  be  unlikely  to  meet  any  but  lean  curates  and 
country  matrons.  This  is  leaving  my  own  world 
behind!" 

"You  cannot  refuse  to  be  friends  with  me  now," 
Wingate  was  saying  again,  because  she  had  not 
answered  that  part  of  his  remark. 

"  No  ;  but  still,  we  shall  rarely  meet." 

"Why?  You  are  not  going  to  bury  yourself  in 
this  place  all  your  life.  You  will  be  going  back 
to  town." 

74 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  I  am  going  to  stay  here — or — or — somewhere 
similar — always." 

"And  I  stay  with  Grenvil  Delmar  half  a  dozen 
times  a  year." 

"  Perhaps ;   it  makes  no  difference." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  You  told  me  just  now  that 
I  was  persistent — I  fear  you  must  think  me  even 
worse.  We  have  passed  that  bit  of  the  shore  I  was 
going  to  show  you,  also.  Would  you  like  to  go 
back?" 

"  Now  you  are  vexed  with  me,  and  you  have  been 
so  kind,  and  you  were  once  a  friend  of  father's,  and, 
oh,  don't  you  see  that  I  do  not  want  to  be  disagree- 
able, or  .  .  ." 

She  had  stretched  out  her  bare  hand,  and  Wingate 
took  it  in  a  firm,  warm  clasp. 

"  I  understand,"  he  said.  "  You  are  a  little  out 
of  love  with  yourself  and  all  the  world  to-day, 
Miss  Drummond ;  and  I  believe  I  am  right  when 
I  imagine  that  your  aunts  have  not  shown  you 
quite  the  kind  of  sympathy  which  should  be  given 
to  you  now,  of  all  times.  I  am  just  a  stranger  to 
you,  but  do  believe  that  I  feel  for  you  deeply,  and 
that  I  am  more  sorry  than  I  can  say  to  hear  of 
my  old  friend's  death." 

"You  are  good,"  she  murmured  very  low. 
And  then  they  walked  back,  almost  to  Dale,  in 
silence. 

"  I  am  only  going  to  say  good-bye  till  to-morrow," 
he  declared,  when  he  left  her.  "  I  shall  make  Delmar 
come  over  and  bring  me  too,  on  the  strength  of 
that  church  concert  three  years  ago." 

"  What  a  life  for  a  child  like  that ! "  Wingate  said 
to  himself  as  he  strode  back  in  the  homeward 
direction.  "  She  is  almost  afraid  of  those  old  women 


NOB  ALL  YOUK  TEARS 


already ;  1  expect  poor  Drummond  left  her  dependent 
upon  them." 

And  he  thought  contentedly  upon  their  meeting 
and  upon  another,  which  he  determined  should  take 
place  before  long ;  and  he  lit  a  fresh  cigar  and  pulled 
at  it  reflectively,  while  there  came  to  him  the  pleasant 
memory  of  sweet  eyes  that  had  looked  at  him  through 
tears,  of  whose  colour  he  could  not  yet  be  sure, 
of  a  plaintive  red  mouth,  and  of  a  low  voice  that  rung 
in  bis  ears  like  a  haunting  bell 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


VIII 

WING  ATE  had  a  good  deal  of  difficulty 
in  inducing  his  host  to  call  upon  the 
Misses    Drummond.       He    had    men- 
tioned the  ladies'  name  to  him  on  that 
night  when  Valerie  had  been  stranded  in  the  storm  ; 
but  Delmar  seemed  to  take  singularly  little  interest 
He    knew    them — very    slightly,  yes.     He    thought 
that  during  that  time  when  his  mother  had  lived  at 
the  Lodge,  they  had  met     It  was  three  years  ago, 
and,  as  far  as  Delmar  could  remember,  they  were 
extremely     unattractive    women.        He     could     not 
quite   understand  Wingate's  anxiety  to  make  their 
acquaintance. 

He  said  so,  this  afternoon,  just  a  week  from  that 
day  on  which  Wingate  had  declared  to  Valerie  his 
intention  of  storming  Dale  on  the  morrow. 

"  This  is  the  first  time  in  my  life  that  I  have  ever 
seen  you  so  keen  about  anything,  Kerr,"  Delmar 
remarked,  with  a  laugh.  "What  is  it  that  you  are 
trying  to  induce  me  to  do?  Call  upon  two  old 
ladies  who  live  at  Dale,  and  take  you  with  me?  I'm 
not  sure  they  would  not  absolutely  shut  the  door  in 
our  faces!  I  should  hate,"  a  little  plaintively,  "to 
be  snubbed  by  a  woman  who  wore  flat-heeled,  square- 
toed  boots.  There  is  only  one  thing  I  distinctly 
remember  the  Misses  Drummond  by,  and  that  is  the 
shape  of  their  ankles — it  was  awful!  No,  suggest 

17 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


something  better,  my  dear  Kerr — throw  in  a  little 
youth  and  beauty,  and 

"If  you  will  go  to  Dale  you  will  be  amply 
rewarded,  so  far  as  youth  and  beauty  are  concerned," 
returned  Wingate,  "  though  I  know  well  that  you  are 
blind  to  both." 

"You  malign  me — not  blind.  And  now  I  am 
getting,  as  the  children  say,  warm.  The  lady  of  the 
storm,  the  maiden  whom  you  rescued  from  the  snow, 
and  who  by  the  way  delayed  you  about  four  hours 
on  your  journey  here  last  week — it  is  she  who  is  the 
attraction." 

"  Precisely.  You  could  not  possibly  suppose  it 
was  either  of  the  women  of  the  ankles  !  I  am  quite 
frank  with  you,  Grenvil.  Miss  Drummond  interests 
and  attracts  me.  I  am  quite  sure  she  is  very 
unhappy,  or  will  be,  with  her  aunts ;  I — I — knew 
her  father,  many  years  ago:  you  must  remember 
having  heard  of  him  anyhow,  Jack  Drummond  the 
artist  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  have.     So  she's  his  daughter,  is  she  ?  " 

"  I've  been  telling  you  so  for  a  week." 

"Forgive  me.  I  am  becoming  not  only  selfish, 
but  absent  minded.  Tell  me  about  her  again ;  I 
swear  to  give  you  my  whole  attention." 

"There  is  very  little  to  tell,"  returned  Wingate, 
walking  thoughtfully  up  and  down  the  room.  "As 
I've  said,  this  lady  is  a  daughter  of  Jack  Drummond, 
who  died  a  little  while  ago,  and,  it  is  my  firm  belief, 
left  his  child  dependent  upon  his  sisters.  You  know 
more  about  them  than  I  do,  doubtless ;  but  from 
the  very  little  Miss  Drummond  has  said  of  them  and 
hei  life  with  them — I  have  met  her  twice  during 
her  rambles  abroad — and  from  the  manner  in  which 
I  judge  that  she  was  received  on  the  night  of  her 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


unfortunately  late  arrival  at  Dale,  I  should  imagine 
they  were  the  sort  of  people  to  drive  a  girl  out 
of  her  mind.  It  is  monstrous  to  think  of  a  child 
like  that  leading  such  a  life!  You  will  have  the 
house  full  presently,  and  I  know  you  would  be  the 
first  to  help  to  make  it  a  little  less  dull  for  her 
if  you  could." 

"There  are  thousands  of  other  young  and  lovely 
women  whose  lives  are  dull  and  narrow,"  began 
Delmar,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

"  It  may  be,  but  I  don't  happen  to  be  interested 
in  them,  you  see.  I  expect  if  these  old  women  only 
saw  the  child  speaking  to  me,  or  heard  of  it,  they'd 
shut  her  up  in  the  house  like  a  prisoner,  and " 

"And  so  you  want  to  be  introduced  to  her 
properly ;  quite  right.  And  you  want  me  to  go  and 
make  love  to  those  awful  old  women,  and,  if  possible, 
bring  the  child  here  presently,  when  the  house  fills 
up.  You  shall  have  your  way.  What  I  can  do 
towards  it  I  promise  you  I  will  do,  with  all  my 
heart.  If  Pat  interests  herself  in  her  ..." 

"Ah,  then  she  will  have  the  best  time  in  the 
world.  I  pin  my  faith  to  Pat"  Wingate  spoke 
lightly,  but  there  was  a  ring  of  genuine  affection 
ia  his  voice ;  and  into  Delmar's  eyes  there  came 
for  a  moment  an  expression  that  only  came  into 
them  at  the  mention  of  this  woman's  name,  a  light 
that  only  she  ever  saw  in  them.  Even  now,  he 
kept  his  face  turned  away  from  his  friend  for  a 
short  moment. 

"As  there  is  no  time  like  the  present,"  he  said, 
after  a  short  pause,  "  suppose  we  storm  the  inmates 
of  Dale  this  afternoon  ?  " 

And  so  it  happened  that  as  the  clocks  were 
striking  five,  Upton  opened  the  great  hall  door  of 

79 


NOK  ALL  YOUK  TEARS 


Dale  in  his  very  own  grudging,  uninviting  way, 
and  a  minute  later  that  of  the  drawing-room. 

"Sir  Grenvil  Delmar  and  Mr  Wingate,"  he 
announced,  in  his  sour,  petulant  treble. 

Miss  Hermione  Drummond  looked  at  her  sister, 
and  both  ladies  looked  at  Valerie,  who  half  rose 
in  her  chair  near  the  tea  table,  sat  down  again 
swiftly,  and  coloured  crimson  from  her  throat  to 
the  roots  of  her  pretty  hair. 

Grenvil  Delmar,  advancing,  greeted  both  ladies  as 
though  they  were  quite  his  best  friends  and  he  was 
in  the  habit  of  calling  upon  them  at  least  once  a 
week.  He  reminded  them  swiftly  and  deftly  of  his 
meeting  with  them  on  a  former  occasion,  and  tactfully 
ignored  that  it  was  years  ago ;  he  recalled  to  their 
minds,  without  any  difficulty,  his  mother,  and  lied 
beautifully  and  most  convincingly  while  he  told  them 
how  often  she  spoke  of  them  in  her  letters,  how 
interested  she  was,  still,  in  their  village  work,  and 
how  she  had  given  him  countless  messages  for 
them,  which,  he  was  ashamed  to  say,  he  had  never 
delivered. 

That  he  did  so  thus  tardily,  to-day,  he  declared 
was  because,  at  last,  his  conscience  had  pricked  him 
with  severity  as  he  was  driving  past  the  gates  of  Dale. 
And  he  gave  imaginary  messages  from  his  mother 
with  ease  and  fluency  that  took  Wingate's  breath 
away ;  he  talked  so  winningly  and  charmingly  to 
the  forbidding  old  ladies,  with  a  certain  manner 
that,  for  the  moment  at  least,  won  them  over  to  his 
side,  introduced  Wingate,  and  was  made  known  with 
him  to  the  youngest  Miss  Drummond  so  naturally 
and  pleasantly,  that  not  even  Miss  Angela  could 
frame  at  once  the  frigid  speeches  that  she  was 
longing  to  utter. 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


She  and  her  sister  thanked  him  slowly  for 
delivering  his  mother's  messages  (they  each  kept  a 
mental  eye  upon  the  fund  now  being  raised  for 
the  new  schools,  and  they  were  sufficiently  snobbish 
at  heart  to  treat  this  man,  who  was  distinctly 
somebody  in  the  neighbourhood,  with  a  little  more 
courtesy  than  they  would  have  treated  a  nobody), 
offered  him  tea,  and  found  themselves  talking  to 
a  most  flattering  listener,  while  Wingate  devoted 
himself  entirely  to  Valerie. 

Delmar  thought  she  very  nearly  upset  everything 
by  turning  suddenly  to  him,  but  apparently  including 
everybody  in  the  small  piece  of  information  she  gave, 
explaining  that  she  and  Wingate  were  not  quite 
strangers. 

"  You  know,"  she  said,  "  that  we  got  lost,  or  very 
nearly  lost,  together,  that  dreadful  night  when  there 
had  been  such  a  storm  here.  You  remember,  Aunties, 
that  I  told  you  how  kind  Mr  Wingate  was  to  me  ?  " 

"  I  remember,"  said  Miss  Angela,  "  but  I  don't 
think  I  caught  Mr  Wingate's  name,  if  you  even  told 
us,  Valerie.  We  have  to  thank  you,  Mr  Wingate,  for 
saving  our  niece  a  nasty,  cold  wait  in  the  train." 

While  Wingate  took  the  opportunity  of  addressing 
himself  to  the  ladies,  Delmar  made  his  way  over  to 
Valerie  with  the  cake-dish. 

"  I  am  awfully  pleased  to  make  your  acquaintance, 
Miss  Drummond,"  he  said  in  an  undertone,  replacing 
the  cake,  which  she  refused,  on  the  wrong-  table,  and 
sinking  down  on  the  sofa  beside  her. 

"  It  seems  that  Kerr  knew  your  father,  long  ago, 
and  I'm  almost  certain  that  once  I  knew  him  too — 
at  least  I'm  sure  I  did  by  reputation ;  and  as  Wingate 
is  one  of  my  oldest,  indeed  the  oldest  and  best  friend 
I  have,  and  I  claim  all  his  friends  as  mine,  I  hope  you 

81  r 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


are  going  to  let  me  call  myself  your  friend  too.  You 
know  I  spend  the  whole  of  the  winter  and  a  good  part 
of  the  spring  at  Delmar,  in  a  most  unfashionable  way, 
and  a  few  others  who  are  after  my  own  heart  in  this 
respect,  come  down  and  help  to  liven  up  the  place. 
My  sisters  are  coming  next  week,  even  if  my 
mother  does  not ;  I  hope  you  will  let  me  bring  them 
to  see  you,  and  come  over  to  Delmar  whenever  you 
can." 

"  You  are  very  good,"  said  Valerie,  with  sweet, 
grateful  eyes  raised  to  his.  "  I  should  love  to  come. 
Even  though  I  have  been  here  such  a  little  time, 
several  of  the  people  round  about  have  told  me  what 
a  dear  old  place  Delmar  is ;  and  then  it  is — it  is  so 
friendly  and  kind  of  you  to — to — want  to  give  me 
pleasure.  But  my  aunts  do  not  go  anywhere,  and 
I  doubt  if  they  would  let  me  go  without  them." 

"We  must  try  what  our  combined  powers  of 
persuasion  can  do,"  he  declared  so  cheerfully,  that 
Valerie  felt  there  was  hope.  And  then  he  turned  to 
Miss  Angela  and  adroitly  brought  the  conversation 
round  to  the  subject  of  their  orchids,  which  had,  for 
years,  been  the  talk  of  the  county. 

The  ladies  rose  helplessly  to  the  bait.  Their  thin 
mouths  widened  into  positive  smiles ;  they  actually 
forgot  Wingate  and  Valerie,  and  they  instantly  took 
possession  of  Delmar,  and  led  him,  a  willing  captive, 
to  the  orchid-house. 

"  So  you  see,  I  have  come  here  at  last,"  Wingate 
said,  as  the  door  closed  behind  Miss  Angela  and 
Delmar. 

"  I  see  you  have,  and  Sir  Grenvil  with  you.  He  is 
certainly  a  man  of  considerable  courage,  and  no  mean 
amount  of  tact !  This  last  interest  in  their  wretched 
orchids  is  a  master-stroke." 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


Wingate  laughed. 

"You  have  seen  through  him,  then." 

"  I  don't  know  about  '  seen  through.'  I  only  know 
that  nobody  can  want  to  be  talked  at  about  orchids, 
I've  had  them  undiluted  for  a  week,  I've  had  to  grope 
and  grub  about  in  their  interests  ;  and  what  with 
orchids  and  grey  flannel  for  the  poor,  I'm  hopelessly 
bewildered." 

"  You  are  no  happier,  then,  here,  than  you  were  at 
first,  than  you  thought  you  should  be  ?  "  he  asked. 

Valerie  shook  her  head. 

"  But  you  will  come  to  Delmar  when  Grenvil  asks 
you — you  will  let  us  try " 

"  He  has  asked  me — I  think  it  was  so  kind  and 
thoughtful  of  him,"  with  a  wicked  little  glance  from 
under  her  long  lashes.  "  Only  they,"  and  her  head 
was  jerked  backwards  in  what  he  supposed  to  be 
the  Misses  Drummonds'  direction,  "will  never  let 
me  go." 

"Not  when  the  house  is  full  —  not  when  his 
sisters " 

"  Not  if  all  England  should  be  there.  Besides,"  she 
added,  as  a  sort  of  afterthought,  "  I  don't  know  that 
it  would  be  very  good  for  me." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Well,  for  a  time,  this  is  my  home.  One  gets  used 
to  almost  anything,  you  know,  and  I  shall  use  myself 
to  this  life.  If  I  had  a  glimpse  of  any  other,  again, 
the  sort  of  life  I  have  lived  and  loved  so  well,  it 
would  only  be  harder  for  me  here  and— and — after- 
wards, when  I  go  away." 

"  Then  you  are  going  away  ?  You  are  not  going 
to  remain  here  always  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  am  to  launch  out  on  the  great  sea  of  the 
world  for  myself,  you  know.  The  only  thing  that  is 

83 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


standing  in  the  way  is  the  utter  inability  of  my  aunts 
to  find  one  single  thing  for  which  I  am  fitted." 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment.  It  was  as  he  had 
thought,  then  ;  Jack  Drummond  had  left  her  depend- 
ent upon  his  sisters,  and  they  were  going  to  drive  her 
out  into  the  world.  Perish  the  thought ! 

"Do  you  remember  the  story  of  the  three  little 
pigs  who  set  out  to  build  themselves  houses  ? "  she 
went  on  laughingly.  "  One  had  only  furs  with  which 
to  build,  the  other  straw ;  but  the  last  had  bricks. 
I  have  no  bricks — mine  must  be  furs  or  straw.  Have 
you  ever  built  a  house  of  straw  and  had  it  swept 
down?  I  have,  and  so  I  suppose  that  makes  me 
rather  dread  to  build  another." 

Whatever  his  answer  might  have  been,  it  was 
checked  by  the  sound  of  Miss  Hermione's  voice  not 
far  off. 

"  When  shall  I  see  you  again  ?  "  he  asked  hastily. 

"  I  feel  certain  that  you  will  not  be  asked  to  repeat 
your  visit  of  this  afternoon,"  Valerie  returned,  with  a 
touch  of  mischief ;  "  and  unless  you  are  a  great  deal 
bolder  than  I  think,  you  could  not  reasonably  put  in 
an  appearance  under  a  week." 

He  made  a  gesture  of  impatience.  The  voices 
were  coming  nearer. 

**  But  I  might  take  my  walks  by  the  cliff  path." 

"Certainly  you  might  It  is  rather  out  of  your 
way,  however." 

"And  you?" 

Her  eyes  met  his.  Something  deep  down  in  them 
set  his  pulses  beating  quickly ;  it  was  a  mingling  of 
pleading,  quite  unconscious,  which  roused  in  him 
something  more  than  pity,  something  different  to 
pity;  of  sadness,  of  fear,  that  she  strove  to  hide, 
that  roused  in  him  a  touch  of  impatience ;  and  of 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


coquetry  that  he  would  far  rather  not  have  seen 
in  them. 

"Oh,  I,"  she  returned.  "Well,  one  can  never  be 
quite  sure  what  I  shall  do  from  one  hour  to  the 
other ! "  And  at  that  moment  Delmar  and  the 
ladies  entered. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Delmar,  ten  minutes  later,  as 
he  and  Wingate  were  driving  homeward,  "that  I 
should  call  this  visit  of  ours  an  unqualified  success. 
Whilst  I  admired  the  dear  Miss  Angela's  orchids, 
they  were  very  nice,  but  it  struck  me  that  if  one 
ventured  to  admire  their  niece  they  would  be  any- 
thing but  nice.  She's  delightful,  and  very  lovely 
.  .  .  the  niece  of  course ! " 

"They  seem  to  me  rather  impossible  women," 
declared  Wingate,  who  was  a  little  out  of  humour 
with  the  world  in  general  at  this  moment 

"  Of  course  you  told  them  all  about  having  known 
their  brother.  I  expected  every  moment  that  they 
would  fall  upon  your  neck  and  weep ;  I  should  have 
been  bound  to  insist  on  Miss  Valerie  weeping  on 
mine,  then." 

"Yes,  I  told  them.     They  froze  visibly." 

"  Perhaps  they  were  shy.  I  don't  believe  they  are 
in  the  habit  of  receiving  men  to  tea  in  the  afternoons. 
We  shall  have  to  wait." 

He  did  not  say  for  what,  and  Wingate  spoke  but 
little  during  the  drive. 

When  they  reached  the  Lodge,  and  Delmar  had 
driven  round  to  a  side  entrance,  his  man  met  him. 

"  Mrs  Harcourt  and  Miss  Delmar  have  arrived, 
Sir  Grenvil,"  he  said,  "  and  Mrs  Brabazon,  who  called 
about  half  an  hour  ago,  is  with  them  in  the  drawing- 
room.  I  have  let  Miss  Delmar  know  that  you  have 
come  back." 

«5 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


Mrs  Harcourt  and  Milly  Delmar  were  Sir  Grenvil's 
sisters.  They  were  very  evidently  amused  at  surpris- 
ing him. 

"You  did  not  expect  us  for  another  week,"  they 
declared  in  one  breath.  "Well,  we  changed  our 
great  minds  and  came  on  to-day." 

"  We  found  Pat  in  the  same  train,  starting  for  the 
Herbertson's,  and  so  we  just  made  her  promise  to 
send  her  things  on,  and  follow  us  here  for  tea,"  added 
Miss  Delmar,  well  knowing  that  this  act  of  hers 
would  have  won  her  pardon  for  a  far  greater  crime 
than  that  of  arriving  a  week  before  she  was  due  at 
her  brother's  house. 

"  I  am  greatly  indebted  to  you  all,"  he  said  ;  and 
in  the  uncertain  firelight  his  eyes  said  so  much  more, 
so  much  of  glad  surprise  too  great  for  mere  words, 
straight  into  Pat  Brabazon's  own  eyes,  that  a  flush 
spread  over  her  little  delicate  face,  and  she  sunk  into 
a  seat  well  in  the  shadow,  with  a  little  movement  that 
bade  him  sit  near  her. 

"  You  did  not  let  me  know  you  were  going  to  the 
Herbertson's,"  Delmar  reproached  her,  very  low.  He 
leant  forward,  and  for  the  shortest  of  moments  let 
his  hand  rest  on  her  arm  that  was  gloved  to  the 
elbow ;  but  his  touch  held  a  caress. 

"I  did  not  know — I  thought  to  be  far  from  this 
part  of  the  world,  and — and — like  your  sisters,  I 
changed  my  mind." 

"Why?" 

"  Need  I  tell  you— must  I  ?" 

"  I  want  you  to — not  here." 

He  rose  and  put  her  cup  down  ;  and  for  the  benefit 
of  the  rest,  who  were  not  listening,  he  said 
something  vague  about  a  new  picture  and  a  bad 
light  in  which  to  see  it  But  he  held  open  one 

86 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


of  the  doors  for  her,  and  followed  her  out  of  the 
room. 

When  they  reached  his  favourite  room,  the  library, 
she  went  quickly,  a  little  nervously,  over  to  the  big 
fireplace  and  put  her  hand  on  the  edge  of  the  mantel- 
piece, as  if  a  little  glad  of  the  support. 

"Pat!" 

He  was  standing  by  the  table,  with  his  hands 
stretched  out  to  her,  but  she  kept  her  eyes  on  the 
glowing  fire. 

"  I  know — I  know,"  she  said  swiftly.  "  I  was  a 
fool  to  do  it — I  have  no  strength  of  mind,  sometimes. 
I  started  away  in  one  of  my  worst  moods ;  I  wired  to 
Dolly  Herbertson  to  expect  me,  and  I  regretted  it 
the  moment  I  got  into  the  train.  I  might  have  got 
out  at  the  next  station,  but  your  sisters  caught  me, 
and  I  was  lost.  Forgive  me  ..." 

He  crossed  the  little  space  which  lay  between  them 
swiftly,  and  stood  behind  her,  with  his  hands  on  her 
shoulders. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said  gravely,  "  there  is  no  such  word 
between  you  and  me.  Look  back  on  your  life,  as  I 
look  back  upon  mine — or  the  only  part  of  it  worth 
remembering  since  we  met,  you  and  I.  Look  into 
your  heart,  and  ask  yourself  if  it  is  not  you  who  have 
always  been  strong,  brave,  who  have  resisted,  never 
tempted.  Do  you  think  that  I,  who  know  every  look 
of  your  eyes,  every  tone  of  your  dear  voice,  do  not 
understand  that  something  more  than  the  ordinary 
misery  has  driven  you  here?  Don't  you  know  what 
it  means  to  me — this  trust  of  yours  that  is  so  sweet, 
this  knowledge  that  you  are  a  little  happier,  easier, 
when " 

"  When  you  are  near,"  she  supplied,  as  if  the  truth 
would  force  its  way  to  her  lips.  "  It  is  the  truth — I 

87 


NOR  ALL  YOUK  TEARS 


cannot  hide  it  from  you  ;  and  if  it  seems  to  you  that 
sometimes  I  try,  you  know  it  is  because  I  want  to  do 
what  is  best"  If  she  had  taken  one  step  backwards, 
if  she  had  turned  to  face  him,  she  knew  that  she 
would  be  in  his  arms.  And  so  she  stood  still,  with 
her  foot  on  the  fender,  and  her  hand  resting  on  the 
mantelpiece  and  her  eyes  on  the  fire.  But  she  could 
hear  his  breath  come  quickly,  and  he  knew  that  she 
trembled  beneath  the  touch  of  his  hands. 

"  I  know,"  he  made  answer,  softly.  "  It  is  why  I  will 
never  go — though  you  urge  me  more  than  you  have 
urged  me  already — where  I  cannot  get  to  you  at  a 
moment's  notice,  where  you  cannot  be  nearer  me,  as 
to-day,  at  those  moments  when  you  dare  not  trust 
even  yourself.  But  you  have  not  told  me  what  has 
happened."  He  took  his  hands  from  her  shoulders 
and  went  a  little  distance  from  her. 

u  After  all,  does  it  matter  ? "  she  said,  turning  now 
to  face  him.  "Nothing  you  can  imagine  would  be 
worse  than  it  is.  Even  the  gravity  of  it  all  is  lost  in 
the  repetition  of  vulgar — no,  don't  ask  me  now.  I  was 
beside  myself  yesterday,  but  I  am  calmer,  more 
reasonable  to-day.  Take  me  back  to  the  others. 
And  will  you  tell  them  to  call  round  the  carriage  ?  " 

0  May  I  take  you  home  ?  " 

"  Not  to-day." 

"  But  I  shall  see  you  to-morrow,  Pat" 

"  Yes ;  come  in  the  morning.  Dolly  and  I  are 
alone  till  night,  when  Jack  comes  back." 

He  reached  the  door,  his  hand  was  upon  the 
curtains  over  it  to  draw  them  back. 

"You  are  in  my  thoughts  day  and  night,  in  my 
heart,  always,"  he  said  swiftly.  "The  world,  these 
last  few  weeks,  has  been  dark  and  colourless  because 
I  could  not  hope  to  see  you  or  to  hear  your  voice ; 

88 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


and  in  that  moment,  when  they  told  me  you  were 
here,  I  was  mad  with  gladness.  Will  you  part  from 
me  once  more,  so  soon,  without  a  word  to  bring  me 
a  little  comfort,  that  I  may  remember  till  I  see  you 
again?"  And  into  Pat  Brabazon's  beautiful  tender 
eyes,  there  came  an  expression  of  momentary  reck- 
lessness. 

"  Comfort !  "  she  echoed.  "  Oh,  have  I  not  already 
brought  into  your  life  the  worst  suffering  it  has  ever 
held  .  .  .  ?" 

"And  the  greatest  joy;  always  remember  that, 
Pat — the  greatest  joy ! " 

But  she  made  a  little  movement,  half  impatient, 
half  deprecatory,  and  went  to  him  suddenly,  and 
rested  both  her  hands  on  his  breast  And  Delmar 
held  her  close  to  his  heart  for  a  long  moment,  in  a 
clasp  that  had  in  it  more  of  reverence  than  of  passion, 
and  that,  while  it  gave  her  courage,  yet  wrung  from 
her  a  little  sob  of  despair. 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


IX 


A  WEEK  had  made  a  great  deal  of  difference 
in  thi  life  which  Valerie  led  at  Dale. 
Mrs  Harcourt  and  Miss  Delmar  had  called 
upon  the  Misses  Drummond ;  and  the 
Misses  Drummond  had  actually  taken  tea  at  Delmar 
Lodge.  More  than  that,  they  had  permitted  their 
niece  to  accompany  them,  and  no  one  was  more 
surprised  than  Valerie  herself.  It  had  been  but  the 
first  step,  and  it  had  not  proved  nearly  so  difficult 
as  she  had  anticipated  and  Wingate  had  feared. 
After  this,  the  way  bid  fair  to  be  pretty  clear. 
Delmar's  sisters  took  an  instant  liking  to  the  girl ; 
they  made  themselves  extremely  pleasant  to  the  old 
ladies,  and  they  followed  up  their  pretty  attentions  to 
them  by  a  general  invitation  to  Valerie  to  come  over 
to  the  Lodge  as  often  as  she  could.  This,  however, 
was  an  invitation  over  which  the  Misses  Drummond 
demurred,  and  though  they  did  not  actually  refuse  it, 
they  intimated  politely  that  their  niece  would  not  be 
likely  to  prove  a  very  frequent  visitor  to  Delmar. 

But  Valerie  knew  well  the  value  of  time,  and  while 
she  resented  her  aunts'  only  half-spoken  objections, 
she  was  wise  enough  to  make  no  comment 

Mrs  Harcourt  had  contrived  to  send  several  trivial 
messages  during  the  week  by  Wingate,  and  when 
these  had  become  a  little  difficult,  she  had  found  that 
there  were  some  books  which  Valerie  would  surely 
like. 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


To-day  she  had  sent  over  a  servant  and  a  dog-cart, 
and  a  very  pretty  little  note  to  Miss  Hermione, 
asking  that  Valerie  might  spend  the  day  at  Delmar, 
and  promising  to  return  her  safely  at  a  reasonable 
hour. 

Valerie  saw  the  trap  round  the  gloomy  drive ;  she 
knew  intuitively  that  it  had  been  sent  for  her,  and 
when  her  aunts  summoned  her,  she  went  to  them 
prepared  for  battle. 

"  I  have  had  a  note  from  Mrs  Harcourt,"  announced 
Miss  Hermione,  smoothing  the  sheet  of  paper,  and 
speaking  with  exasperating  deliberation.  "  She  wants 
you  to  go  to  Delmar  to  spend  the  day." 

"That  will  be  charming,"  interrupted  Valerie  at 
once. 

"  Your  Aunt  Angela  and  I  do  not  see  it  quite  in 
that  light.  Mrs  Harcourt  means  it  kindly,  of  course, 
but  we  think  that,  after  all,  it  is  rather  mistaken 
kindness." 

"  I  don't  quite  understand  you,"  began  Valerie, 
with  an  unconscious,  haughty  lifting  of  her  chin — a 
little  trick  which  did  more  to  ruffle  Miss  Hermione's 
temper  than  anything. 

"  I  should  think,  Valerie,  that  you  might  have  seen 
that  we  never  wished  to  cultivate  the  acquaintance 
of  Sir  Grenvil  or  his  friends.  We  knew  his  mother 
slightly ;  but  in  those  days  the  house  was  run 
on,  I  fancy,  very  different  lines.  Although  I  know 
nothing  against  them,  and  do  not  wish  to  say 
anything  unkind,  I  must  still  endeavour  to  make  you 
understand  that  I  do  not  consider  the  society  of — of — 
that  rather  flippant  set  very  good  or  improving  for  a 
young  person  of  your  position." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  you  are  aware  of  it,  Aunt 
Hermione,  but  you  are  addressing  me  much  as 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


though  I  were  the  under  housemaid,  and  I  may  as 
well  tell  you  at  once  that  I  don't  like  it  and  won't 
stand  it  ...  n 

"Valerie!" 

"  Either  allow  me  to  accept  the  invitation  or  not ; 
but  please  don't  say  nasty  things  about  people  who 
have  simply  tried  to  give  me  a  little  pleasure.  When 
you  talk  about  mistaken  kindness,  and  my  position, 
I  don't  quite  understand  you." 

"  I  mean,"  returned  the  old  lady,  who  was  rather 
pale,  and  whose  hands  were  shaking  with  real  anger, 
"that  in  the  near  future  you  will  have  little 
opportunity  of  partaking  of  such  so-called  enjoyments 
as  those  with  which  the  Delmar  people  might  provide 
you  now,  and  that  to  cultivate  a  taste  for  them  can 
only  make  life  harder  for  you  later  on." 

Valerie  resented  this  remark  the  more,  because 
there  was  that  truth  in  it  which  she  had  been  telling 
herself  all  through  the  last  week.  It  came  to  her  to 
retort  with  something  that  would  be  equally  annoying 
to  her  aunt 

"  That  is  simply  borrowing  trouble,"  she  declared. 
"  One  never  knows  what  is  in  store  for  one,  and  my 
fate  may  be  a  pleasant  one.  I  might  marry,  you 
know,  and  live  in  a  good  deal  of  luxury  for  the  rest 
of  my  life." 

Miss  Hermione  looked  horrified. 

"  That  is  neither  a  pretty  nor  a  lady-like  remark," 
she  said  severely.  "You  may  marry,  certainly,  but 
I  should  imagine  that  it  will  be  at  a  distant  date,  and 
when  you  do,  one  who  will  be  in  that  position  of  life 
which  will  presently  be  yours.  Therefore,  luxury 
will  be  quite  out  of  the  question." 

"And  meantime,"  said  Valerie,  with  her  low, 
musical  laugh  ringing  through  the  room,  "you  are 

Q2 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


keeping  Sir   Grenvil's   horse   in  the   cold,  while   we 
discuss  my  marriage  prospects  !  " 

Miss  Angela,  who  had  not  spoken  yet,  looked  up 
from  her  account  books,  now. 

"  On  second  thoughts,  Hermione,  it  might  be  well 
to  accept  Mrs  Harcourt's  invitation  for  Valerie 
to-day,"  she  said.  "  It  might  seem  a  little  rude  to 
refuse,  and  it  need  not  happen  again." 

"You  had  better  put  your  hat  on  then,  Valerie, 
while  I  send  a  message  out  to  the  coachman." 

Valerie  did  not  pause  to  make  any  answer;  she 
went  out  of  the  room  and  up  the  stairs  before  they 
could  change  their  minds  and  call  her  back. 

"  How  they  do  love  to  fuss  about  nothing ! "  she 
thought,  "  and  how  insulting  and  vulgar  they  can  be. 
I  suppose  they  consider  themselves  well-bred  women ! 
I  am  afraid  I  shall  one  day  tell  them  what  /  think." 

And  ten  minutes  later  she  had  forgotten  them. 

The  drive  was  a  delight  every  inch  of  the  way ;  the 
raw  salt  wind  blew  away  the  last  vestige  of  her  ill 
temper.  Mounted  in  the  high  cart,  she  could  see  all 
over  the  country,  instead  of  being  shut  up  in  a 
rumbling  old  landau  behind  a  couple  of  horses  that 
tried  to  outdo  one  another  in  going  at  a  snail's  pace. 
Her  cheeks  gained  colour  and  her  eyes  brightened. 
She  was  so  young,  and  care  was  so  easily  cast  aside. 
This  day  was  hers  at  least,  come  what  might 
afterwards.  She  would  be  happy  now.  She  would 
forget  everything  but  the  present ;  the  past  and  the 
future  should  have  no  place  in  her  heart  to-day. 

And  while  she  was  being  driven  behind  one  of 
Delmar's  swiftest  horses,  to  the  quaintly  beautiful 
house  which  she  had  seen  but  once,  and  longed  to  see 
again,  her  aunts  were  discussing  Mrs  Harcourt's 
invitation. 

93 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  You  had  some  reason,  Angel -A,  for  letting  Valerie 
go?" 

"  I  don't  know  that  it  was  exactly  a  reason.  I 
thought  it  better  to  let  her  go  to  Delmar  than  to  put 
up  with  her  in  a  disagreeable  mood  for  the  rest  of  the 
week.  Upon  acquaintance,  Valerie  does  not  improve. 
She  is  not  the  sort  of  girl  with  whom  we  could  live 
very  long.  I  never  thought  she  would  bc. — and  now 
that  she  had  been  made  such  a  senseless  fuss  over  by 
Mrs  Harcourt,  you  can  see  for  yourself  that  she  is 
growing  independent  You  heard  that  remark  about 
her  possible  marriage!  She  really  is  possessed  of 
maidenly  reserve.  There  must  be  no  further 
hesitation,  Hermione,  we  must  get  her  some 
employment  at  once.  On  our  recommendation,  and 
if  she  is  not  seen  first,  she  may  be  engaged.  After 
that  we  wash  our  hands  of  her.  We  shall  have  done 
our  duty,  and  we  shall  have  given  her  the  start.  She 
must  do  the  rest  herself." 

Miss  Hermione  agreed  with  every  word  her  sister 
had  uttered,  and  she  showed  that  she  did  so  by  a 
series  of  energetic  nods.  She  went  on  to  discuss 
Delmar's  sisters,  with  whom  she  could  find  no  fault 
save  that  Mrs  Harcourt's  manner  was  too  fliopant  for 
a  woman  married  and  a  woman  of  her  age,  and  that 
Miss  Delmar  dressed  in  a  far  too  youthful  style.  In 
speaking  of  them,  these  ladies  mimicked  their  style 
of  speech  and  the  tones  of  their  voices,  in  *he  half 
sarcastic,  half  playful  way  they  had  of  talkiwg  over 
most  of  their  friends.  There  were  times  whon  they 
even  poked  fun  at  each  other  in  this  vray,  so 
strong  was  the  habit  upon  them,  behind  each  oUier's 
backs. 

And  then  Miss  Hermione  sent  to  the  station  for 
certain  newspapers  which  had  never  yet  found  the;* 

94 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


way  into  Dale,  and    promised   herself  an   enjoyable 
afternoon  sifting  through  the  advertisements. 

Meantime  Valerie  was  spending  her  afternoon 
seated  before  a  huge  fire  in  the  lounge -room  at 
Delmar,  her  little  feet  on  the  fender  bar,  her  sunny 
head  pressed  back  on  a  pillow  that  took  up  half  her 
chair,  and  her  eyes  on  Mrs  Harcourt's  merry  little 
face. 

"  You  look  as  though  you  were  thoroughly  enjoying 
yourself,"  that  lady  declared. 

"  And  I  am.  I'm  afraid  I  am  never  quite  so  happy 
as  when  I  am  doing  nothing." 

"Except  walking,"  put  in  Wingate,  who  was  not 
far  off.  "  I  was  going  to  suggest  taking  you  to  fetch 
Pat,  if  she  is  not  here  within  the  next  ten  minutes." 

But  Valerie  nestled  more  closely  among  her 
cushions  and  shook  her  head  at  him. 

"Tell  me,"  she  said,  addressing  Mrs  Harcourt,  "who 
is  '  Pat '  ?  I  hear  you  speak  of  her — you  do  it  as  if 
you  all  loved  her — you  too,"  nodding  at  Wingate. 

"  I'm  inclined  to  think  that  we  all  do,"  averred  Mrs 
Harcourt,  playing  with  an  impossible  bit  of  knitting. 
"So  you  have  not  met  her  yet?  Well,  you  will 
presently,  and  then  you'll  agree  that  there  is 
something  about  Pat  that  is  extremely  lovable." 

"  Is  she  Sir  Grenvil's  wife,"  Valerie  asked  idly,  and 
looked  round  quickly,  because  an  appalled  sort  of 
silence  fell  upon  her  hearers. 

"  Eh  ?  Good  gracious,  no !  My  dear  child ! 
didn't  you  know  that  Gren  isn't  married  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  didn't  know  it  I  never  heard  anyone  say 
he  was  or  he  wasn't ;  and  the  fact  that  she  was  not 
here  last  time  I  came,  did  not  convey  much.  People 
aren't  always  where  their  wives  are — are  they  ?  " 

"  They   are   not,   indeed ! "  agreed    Mrs    Harcourt 
95 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


who  was  evidently  intensely  amused.  "Generally 
they  are  almost  anywhere  else." 

"  But  about  this  '  Pat ' ;  I  am  interested  in  her,  you 
see.  It  must  be  awfully  nice  to  have  everybody  so 
fond  of  one,"  wistfully. 

"  You  say  that  almost  enviously." 

"  I  feel  it  like  that" 

"Yet  it  is  not  possible  that  you  would  have  us 
believe  that  everybody  is  not  fond  of  you,"  said 
Wingate.  He  had  come  to  that  side  of  the  fireplace 
where  her  chair  stood,  and  now  looked  down  at  her  in 
an  endeavour  to  meet  her  eyes,  which  she  obstinately 
and  tantalisingly  kept  turned  from  him. 

"  It  is  true,  all  the  same." 

"Well,  Pat's  is  a  rather  sad  story,"  Mrs  Harcourt 
interposed.  "  Everybody  knows  it,  so  I  don't  see 
why  you  should  not  Some  years  ago  her  people, 
who  were  intensely  poor,  and  more  intensely  selfish, 
literally  forced  her  into  a  marriage  with  a  man  who 
had  nothing  else  to  recommend  him  but  a  very 
excellent  fortune.  She  was  sold  to  him,  simply  sold, 
and  he  really  was,  I  think,  the  most  abominable 
outsider  I  ever  did  meet  Kerr  thinks  I  ought  not  to 
be  telling  you  these  things,"  she  added,  lowering  her 
soft  voice  to  quite  a  whisper,  and  jerking  her  head  in 
the  direction  of  the  farthest  window  at  the  other  end 
of  the  enormous  room,  over  to  which  Wingate  had 
walked.  "  He's  quite  the  dearest  thing  that  ever  was 
born,  the  most  delightfully  unspoiled  man  in  all  the 
world ;  but  he  hangs  on  to  one  or  two  old-fashioned 
notions  about  women,  that  cause  him  the  most  grisly 
shocks  at  times.  Poor  Pat  had  a  terrible  life  of  it ; 
she  has  still,  for  her  precious  husband  has  grown 
worse  instead  of  better.  Only  she  is  so  terribly — 
conscientious — you  know  what  I  mean ;  she  has  her 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


fixed  ideas  about  what  is  right  and  what  is  wrong,, 
and  she'll  go  straight,  will  Pat,  to  the  end  of  the 
chapter,  to  the  last  day  of  her  life.  Her  husband 
knows  it — everybody  knows  it,  though  he  and  lots  of 
others  pretend  not  to." 

"  And  she  is  very  unhappy,  then  ?  " 

"  I  won't  say  that.  When  one  knows  how  to  live 
at  all,  if  one  isn't  quite  a  fool,  one  is  never  really 
unhappy.  Use  is  a  good  deal,  you  know,  and  Pat 
does  not  do  the  silly  things  for  herself  that  she  did 
years  ago.  She  and  he  meet  as  rarely  as  possible, 
and  when  they  do,  they  agree  to  be  fairly  amiable 
to  each  other.  He  goes  his  way,  drinks  and  gambles, 
and  behaves  generally  like  the  disreputable  sinner 
that  he  is,  and  causes  his  own  people  no  end  of 
trouble,  as  he  always  has  from  his  school  days.  He 
has  disgraced  his  name  so  that  his  father  is  ashamed 
of  it,  and  yet  he  comes  of  the  best  blood  in  England 
— his  mother  was  a  saint,  his  father  a  good  man  and 
a  gentleman  to  the  core.  He's  one  of  the  Cuthbert 
Brabazons  of " 

"  Here  is  Pat,"  remarked  Wingate  from  his  window, 
and  Mrs  Harcourt  said  "  Bravo  ! " 

But  Valerie's  feet  had  slipped  helplessly  off" 
the  fender-bar,  her  head  pressed  limply  on  to  the 
cushion  behind  it,  and  for  a  moment  every  article  of 
furniture  in  the  room  seemed  to  rise  up  to  strike  her. 
Instinctively  she  put  her  hand  before  her  face  that  she 
knew  was  livid,  while  a  little  murmur  of  thankfulness 
went  up  from  her  heart  with  a  prayer  for  strength 
as  Mrs  Harcourt  rose  and  crossed  the  room.  Valerie 
got  out  of  her  chair  in  time  to  see  Wingate  coming 
towards  her,  and  to  be  introduced  to  Pat. 

"Sir  Grenvil  told  me  you  were  here,  and  so  I 
hurried  all  I  knew,"  declared  that  little  lady,  with 

97  a 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


flattering  emphasis.  "Last  time,  you  disappeared 
just  as  I  arrived." 

Then,  all  at  once,  her  soft  eyes  grew  wide,  her 
fingers  closed  on  Valerie's  in  a  grip  that  was  painful, 
and  all  the  sweet  rose-colour  died  out  of  her  cheeks. 
But  in  a  moment  she  had  recovered  herself  with  all 
her  natural  grace,  recovered  so  swiftly  and  easily 
that  none  but  Valerie's  miserable  eyes  had  detected 
her  surprise — horrified  surprise.  Pat  dropped  the 
cold,  limp  hand  ;  a  little  laugh,  devoid,  perhaps,  of 
its  usual  sweetness,  escaped  her ;  and  she  turned 
sharply  away,  blessing  the  semi-darkness  of  this 
corner. 

"Am  I  to  be  forgotten,"  asked  Wingate,  whose 
eyes  had  been  resting  a  little  uneasily  on  Valerie. 

It  was  plain  that  she  was  making  a  great  effort 
even  to  answer  Pat  Her  smile  was  not  that  bright, 
sweet  one  of  the  eyes  as  well  as  of  the  mouth,  that 
had  haunted  him  so  persistently  since  he  had  first 
seen  her. 

"  Fancy  forgetting  you ! "  Pat  said,  while  she  gave 
him  both  her  hands  and  let  him  take  her  furs.  "  Did 
I  hear  anyone  say  'tea'?"  insinuatingly,  and  with 
new  haste,  for  her.  "  Miss  Drummond,"  turning  to 
speak  deliberately  to  Valerie  again,  "do  come  and 
tell  me  things,  while  Kerr  wakes  the  servants  up. 
And  don't  look  like  that,"  she  added  in  a  sharp 
whisper,  pulling  the  girl  close  down  to  her  side, 
while  the  words  she  uttered  reached  only  her  ear, 
scarcely  breathed  as  they  were.  "You  are  white 
as  paper — everyone  will  notice  in  a  moment !  Pull 
yourself  together ;  you  need  not  fear  me.  I  am  not 
a  cad — too  !  " 

Pat  spoke  abruptly,  sharply,  but  there  was  no  un- 
"ss  in  her  eyes,  not  even  a  trace  of  anger  in  the 
98 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


low,  beautiful  voice ;  and  Valerie  looked  back  at  her 
in  speechless  wonder,  with  a  half  sad,  half  hunted  look 
in  her  eyes,  that  brought  the  tears  to  Pat's  own. 

Half  an  hour  passed — half  an  hour  of  the  most 
exquisite  torture  for  both  Valerie  and  Pat,  half  an 
hour  in  which  they  both  seemed  to  live  over  again  a 
painful  lifetime.  Then,  with  a  little  characteristic, 
determined  movement,  Mrs  Brabazon  rose,  and 
brought  about  their  release.  She  contrived  to  take 
Wingate  aside. 

"  I  don't  think  she  is  well,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  She  ?     Who  ?     Miss  Drummond  ?  " 

M  Yes ;  or  is  it  shyness  ?  " 

"  She  is  not  shy." 

"  Then,  as  I  say,  she  is  not  well.  Take  her  away 
from  the  rest  for  a  little  while,  Kerr." 

Wingate  smiled. 

"  What  makes  you  select  me  ..."  he  began,  with 
curiosity.  And  Mrs  Brabazon  narrowed  her  pretty 
dark  eyes,  and  put  her  head  a  little  on  one  side. 

"  Shall  we  say  instinct  ?  Dear  old  boy,  have  you 
been  my  best  and  kindest  friend  for  nine  years  to 
leave  it  impossible  for  me  to  read  your  mind — some- 
times ?  Take  her  away,  now." 

Wingate,  nothing  loth,  went  back  to  Valerie's  side. 
It  was  some  few  moments  before  he  managed  to  get 
her  away  from  the  rest,  but  he  did  manage  it  at  last. 
And  as  he  followed  her,  presently,  from  the  room, 
Mrs  Brabazon  detained  her  a  moment  at  the  door. 

"They  keep  this  room  a  trifle  too  hot  with  the 
pipes,"  she  said  easily,  "  don't  you  think  ?  Are  you 
staying  about  here  very  long?" 

"  No,  I  think  not — not — long,"  murmured  Valerie, 
forcing  a  smile. 

She  was  glad  when  Mrs  Brabazon's  voice  ceased, 
99 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


when  the  lounge  -  room  was  left  far  behind,  when, 
presently,  she  felt  a  breath  of  air  on  her  forehead, 
that  seemed  to  bring  her  out  of  a  stupor. 

"Can  I  go  out  in  the  gardens?  Will  it  matter? 
Will  you  take  me?"  she  asked  breathlessly;  and 
Wingate  caught  up  a  shawl  that  lay  in  the  hall,  and 
put  it  round  her.  Then  he  threw  wide  a  door  at  the 
side  of  the  house,  and  led  her  in  silence  through  the 
bare  gardens,  over  their  carpet  of  moist  brown  leaves. 

"  What  is  the  matter?"  he  asked  her  at  last  "  You 
are  ill,  or  something  has  happened.  What  is  it  ?  " 


NOK  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


'  T  T  Is  nothing,"  she  said  faintly,  w  I — I — believe 
I  have  had  a  headache  all  day — the  wind, 

M  you  know,  coming  over  was  rather  keen " 

"  And  it  is  blowing  on  you  now." 

"  Yes,  but  I  like  it  now — it  does  me  good." 

"But  is  that  all?"  he  persisted.  "You  are  sure 
nothing  has  upset  you?  It  was  nothing  that 
Mrs  Harcourt  was  telling  you?  She  is  a  dear 
soul,  but  she  does  colour  her  friends'  life-stories 
rather  highly  at  times.  She  surely  did  not  treat 
you  to  any  of  the  miserable  details  of  Pat's  unhappy 
lot." 

"No — no.  I  was  interested  to  hear  about  her, 
poor  woman.  It  —  it  —  is  unfortunate,  isn't  it?" 
in  a  wild  endeavour  to  take  his  attention  a 
little  away  from  herself.  "You — do  you  know — 
him?" 

"  Who  ?  Brabazon  ?  I  regret  to  say  I  do.  Don't 
let  us  talk  of  him.  I  hate  to  hear  his  name  on 
your  lips.  If  you  see  much  of  Pat,  the  chances  are 
you  may  have  to  meet  him,  but  I  trust  the  time 
is  far  off.  The  most  objectionable  cad  on  the 
face  of  the  earth — a  man  I  cannot  understand 
any  decent  woman  speaking  to  a  second  time — a 
man  I  should  like  to  have  an  excuse  for  soundly 
thrashing." 

He  was  conscious  of  having  been  betrayed  into 
101 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


speaking  strongly  by  his  ever-present  anger  against 
the  husband  of  Mrs  Brabazon,  because  he  was  her 
husband,  and  of  a  little  harsh  laugh  which  escaped 
Valerie. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  she  could  see  anything 
but  a  sky  that  seemed  to  be  falling  down  upon  her, 
trees  that  were  foolishly  bowing  before  her  to  the 
ground,  a  mist  that  would  not  clear  before  her  eyes. 
Wingate's  voice  sounded  miles  away,  but  every  word 
cruelly  distinct — words  she  would  never  be  able  to 
forget.  For  the  first  time  she  would  have  welcomed 
the  sight  of  Dale;  even  one  or  both  of  her  aunts; 
she  would  have  blessed  Upton  if  he  had  only 
appeared  at  this  moment  to  take  her  away.  It 
came  to  her  presently  that  her  silence  had  lasted 
long — so  long  that  Wingate  might  be  wondering 
at  it. 

"  It  is  not  likely  that  I  shall  see  much  of  anybody 
here,"  she  forced  herself  to  say.  "  I  shall  be  going 
away  very  soon  "  (in  her  heart  she  was  determining 
that  it  should  be  on  the  morrow  if  possible),  "and 
it  will  be  to  quite  another  world.  Which  reminds 
me,"  with  a  little  wan  smile,  "it  must  be  nearly 
six — and  the  drive  home  is  a  long  one — and  I 
promised  that  I  would  not  be  late." 

"You  are  in  a  great  hurry  to  leave  us,  Miss 
Drummond." 

There  was  coldness  in  his  voice  that  already  sent 
a  chill  of  dread  to  her  heart.  She  told  herself  that 
it  would  be  the  coldness  of  his  worst  contempt  if 
he  knew  all.  This  was  the  day  which  she  had 
determined  should  be  such  a  happy  one!  She 
wished  with  all  her  soul  that  her  aunts  had  kept 
tc  their  original  intention  and  had  desired  her  to 
remain  at  home.  And  then  a  little  touch  of 

102 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 

•omething  like  the  old  recklessness  came  upon  her, 
of  something  like  the  old  courage.  She  lifted  her 
eyes  to  his  in  the  misty  dusk,  through  which  he 
could  hardly  see  her  face ;  she  put  out  a  little 
pleading  hand  and  touched  his  arm. 

"  Don't  be  unkind  to  me,"  she  entreated.  "  I  am 
not  anxious  to  leave — any  of  you.  You  have  all 
been  kinder  to  me  than  anyone  has  been,  oh !  for 
months  and  months.  But — I  had  not  wanted  to 
confess  it — I  think  I  am  not  very  well ;  and  I 
don't  fancy  I  shall  have  the  strength  to  battle  with 
their  anger  to-night,  so  I  had  better  not  incur  it. 
That  is  what  is  called  prudence,  Mr  Wingate." 

"  I  understand,"  he  said,  taking  one  of  her  cold 
hands  and  keeping  it  in  a  firm  clasp.  "They  do 
not  like  you  to  come  here — they  do  not  like 
anyone  from  here  to  go  to  Dale.  You  told  me 
once  that  I  was  persistent.  I  hope  my  persist- 
ence has  not  been  the  cause  of  annoyance  to 
you." 

She  was  silent  She  was  thinking  that  there  was 
only  one  course  clear  to  her,  and  that  it  would  be 
best  to  steer  for  it  at  the  outset. 

"  It  sounds  so  ungrateful,"  she  almost  whispered, 
because  she  was  conscious  that  her  words  were  at 
best  that  worse  thing  than  a  lie — half  a  truth. 
"  Ungrateful  to  them  and  to  you — to  them  because 
I  owe  them  much,  to  you  and  Sir  Grenvil,  and 
Mrs  Harcourt,  oh !  and  all  here,  because  you  have 
meant  to  be  only  kind.  But — but — if  this  is  really 
your  wish,  you  and  your  friends — all — will  forget 
that  you  ever  met  me.  Oh,"  miserably,  "don't  you 
understand,  a  little  ?  " 

He  thought  he  did.  He  said  something  un- 
complimentary to  the  absent  Misses  Drummond 

103 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


under  his  breath;  and  he  kept  her  hand  still  in 
his. 

"  Are  you  telling  me  that  you  will  not  come  here 
any  more  ?  " 

"  I  am  certain  my  aunts  will  refuse  to  allow  it 
I  am  like  a  child  or  a  prisoner  in  their  house, 
and " 

"It  is  monstrous !  And  do  you  mean  that  even 
if  you  do  not  come  here,  I — you  wish  that  I  shall 
forget  that  we  ever  met  ?  " 

"  It  might— it  would  be  best" 

"Then  I  decline  to  entertain  such  a  monstrous 
idea  for  a  moment  Miss  Drummond  may  shut  her 
door  in  my  face,  you  may  not  set  foot  in  this  place 
again  ;  but  you  are  not  quite  a  prisoner  yet,  and," 
with  a  short  laugh,  "  I  am  very  sure  we  shall  meet 
again,  and  often.  Now  let  me  take  you  back  to 
the  house  and  tell  them  to  send  round — you  must 
have  a  closed  carriage  to-night" 

She  answered  him  nothing.  There  seemed  so 
little  that  she  could  say  with  any  safety.  The  day, 
her  whole  life  was  a  failure.  She  had  thought  she 
would  escape  even  memory;  she  had  not  known 
that  at  every  turn  the  way  would  become  more 
difficult  The  man  who  walked  silently  by  her  side 
now  was  perhaps  the  one  creature  whose  good 
opinion  she  would  have  had ;  and  she  felt  that  she 
dared  not  look  him  in  the  face,  lest  he  should  read 
all  too  clearly  what  was  in  her  heart 

He  smoothed  the  way  for  her  departure  with  ease 
and  much  tact ;  so  that  no  surprise  was  felt  and  no 
questions  were  asked  when  she  came  down  to  say 
good-bye. 

They  all  declared  that  she  was  behaving  shabbily 
in  going  so  soon,  but  Mrs  Harcourt  remembered 

104 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEABS 


Eher  promise  to  MfSs  Hermione.  Wingate,  alone, 
fcvent  with  her  to  the  door. 

"I  am  not  going  to  say  good-bye/*  he  declared 
[Softly.  "You  go  for  your  favourite  walk* on  the 
icliffs  every  day  I  am  sure — you  spend  half  your 
time  'there;  and  if  I  too  wander " 

"What  you  are  saying  is  almost  equal  to  asking 
fne  to  meet  you,"  she  said  gravely,  but  glad  that 
she  could  command  her  voice. 

41  Well,  then,  I  do.    We  are  not  utter  strangers  . .  ." 

*'Oh,  I  know!  We  met  twenty  years  ago-^and 
you  knew  father  .  .  ." 

f  Exactly.  I  am  sure  thalj  you  should  not  prowl 
over  those  lonely  ways  by  yourself;  so  what  harm 
If  I  ask  you  to  let  me  prowl  too  ?  " 

*'  But  how  can  I  prevent  you  ?  "  she  said,  weakly. 

And  then  Mrs  Brabazon  appeared  suddenly. 

*'I  am  going  right  past  I}ale,  on  an  errand  for 
Mrs  Herbertson,"  she  said,  with  her  expressive  eyes 
fc>n  Valerie. .'-;*  Won't  you  let  Kerr  send  back  the 
jparriage,  and  let  me  drive  you  ?  I  should  like  your 
company,  Miss  Drummond." 

Wingate,  who  was  pleased,  that  Pat  had  evidently 
taken  a  liking  to  Valerie,  gave  the  order  almost 
before  the  girl  could  answer.  And  while  she 
gmurmured  something  polite  and  pleasant  to  £at, 
the  Herbertson  brougham  came  to  the  door,  a 
smart  little  electric  aSair,  which,  a  'moment  later, 
Bvas  out  of  sight 

Mrs  Harcourt's  uplifted  eyebrows  asked  questions 
of  Wingate  as  he  came  back  into  the  hall. 

**J  doift  think  she  is  well,"  he  explained  a  little 
Shortly.  "Added  to  that,  her  aunts  evidently  made 
&' scene  about  her  coming  here  at  all  to-day.  I 
tblnk  she  has  been  brooding  over  another  that  is 

105 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


in  store  for  her  on  her  return,  and  she  is  not  very 
happy." 

Mrs  Harcourt  looked  at  him  hard  for  a  moment; 
then  she  made  a  little  grimace. 

"What  cats!"  she  said. 


10* 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


XI 


THE  brougham  in  which  Pat  and  Valerie  were 
seated  had  been  gliding  swiftly  and  softly 
over  the  ground  for  several  minutes  before 
a  word  was  spoken  between  the  women. 
It  was  Mrs  Brabazon  who  broke  the  miserable  silence. 

"  I  am  not  going  past  Dale;  that  was  an  invention 
of  mine.  But  I  can  send  you  on  there  presently. 
There  will  be  no  one  at  the  house  where  I  am  staying 
until  to-night :  I  want  to  talk  to  you — will  you  come 
back  with  me  for  a  little  while?"  Valerie  assented, 
with  a  movement  of  her  head  like  one  in  a  dream ; 
and  Mrs  Brabazon  leant  out  of  the  window  to  give  an 
order. 

"  You  had  heard  of  me  ?  You  knew  I  should  be 
here,  when  you  came  to  Delmar  to-day?"  she 
inquired,  looking  curiously  at  the  girl. 

"  I — I — had  not  I  had  never  heard  you  spoken  of 
save  as  '  Pat.'  Mrs  Harcourt  was — was — speaking 
of  you  only  a  few  moments  before  you  came  into  the 
room,  and  she  had  just  explained  to  me  that  you  were 
the  wife  of  Cuthbert  Brabazon.  But  you  knew  me ! 
I  saw  by  your  eyes — there  was  recognition  in  them — 
that  you  knew  me !  How  was  that ;  oh,  how  was  it 
possible." 

"  Have  you  not  yet  learned  that  this  is  a  very 
small  world  indeed  ?  I  have  seen  you  twice  in  my 
life ;  each  time  you  were  pointed  out  to  me  in 
company  with  my  husband.  Certainly  Delmar 

IGJ 


NOR  ALITYOUR  TEAES 


the  very  last  place  at  which  I  ever  expected  to  see 
you  for  the  third  time." 

Valerie's  face,  that  had  been  momentarily  flushed 
with  hot  colour,  grew  so  deadly  white  that  Mrs 
Brabazon  thought  she  was  going  to  faint.  She  put 
out  a  quick,  sympathetic  hand,  but  the  girl  cowered 
away  into  her  corner,  and  let  her  face  sink  down  into 
the  fur  of  her  muff.  "Had  you  not  thought,  feared," 
went  on  Pat,  "that  you  might  meet  me,  or  even — him, 
there?  Or  was  it  that  you  did  not  care?  Don't  tell 
me  it  was  that — I  can't  believe  it!  If  I  had  never 
'seen  you  before,  if  I  had  not  recognised  you,  I  should 
have  looked  into  your  face  and  told  myself  that  beside 
your  beauty  you  possessed  truth  and  ..." 

"  Do  not  I "  broke  in  Valerie,  in  a  little  wail  of 
misery.  "You  don't  understand,  you  can't  Even' 
when  I  have  told  you,  you  may  refuse  to  believe  me.' 
But  for  God's  sake  don't  speak  gently  to  me.  Be 
harsh,  be  cruel — turn  upon  me  and  say  to  me  what  I 
deserve  to  hear,  and  you  know  I  dare  not  resent  So, 
'my  heart  will  harden,  and  so,  I  can  bear  it  best—! 
but  ..." 

"  Hush — hush !  Listen,  we  have  nearly  arrived., 
Don't  say  another  word  till  we  are  in  the  house." 

Valerie  obeyed.  In  a  moment  she  was  following 
Mrs  Brabazon  through  the  warm  hall,  and  up  a  wide 
flight  of  stairs.  Presently  they  entered  one  of  a  cosy 
suite  of  rooms;  and  Pat,  when  she  had  drawn  forward 
a  chair  for  Valerie,  turned  to  the  maid  who  came  to 
take  her  furs. 

"No,  not  the  lights  yet,  Ellis.  Just  stir  the  fire, 
and  we  don't  want  tea,  I'll  ring  if  I  want  you,  don't 
let  me  be  disturbed." 

She  waited  till  the  maid  had  gone,  and  then 
jested  a  gentle  hand  on  Valerie's  shoulder. 

108 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  Don't  tell  me  it  was  that  you  did  not  care,"  she 
said  again,  as  though  half  fearing  the  answer. 
"No,  it  was  not— I " 

"I'm  glad  of  that,  I  felt  sure  of  it  My  dear,  you 
bade  me  not  speak  gently,  you  said  you  wanted  to 
harden  your  heart ;  but  I  am  not  your  judge,  and 
knowing  what  I  know  of  the  man  whose  victim  you 
have  been  made,  I  know  that  already  your  heart  must 
be  hardened  enough.  Come,  tell  me  what  you  said 
just  now  you  feared  I  might  refuse  to  believe — I  shall 
not ;  I  shall  know  you  are  speaking  truth." 

Valerie  looked  up  into  the  lovely  little  pitiful  face, 
incredulously. 

"  You  make  it  a  great  deal  more  easy  for  me,"  she 
said  gratefully.  "To  be  believed  is  everything.  First, 
then,  will  you  believe  that  until  that  last  hour  in 
which  your — Mr  Brabazon  and  I  met  for  the  last 
time,  and  parted  for  always,  I  had  never  heard  of 
your  existence;  I  had  no  suspicion,  no  slightest 
reason  for  the  suspicion  that  there — that  he — had  a 
wife.  Oh,  will  you  believe  that?" 

"Yes." 

"You  mean  it?  After  all  you  must  have  heard  of 
me — after  ?  " 

"  I  have  scarcely  heard  anything  of  you,"  declared 
Pat;  "I  have  never  heard  your  name  till  I  heard  it  at 
Delmar.  You  were  not  an  object  of  interest  to  me ; 
I  was  not  even  curious  about  you.  You  were  pointed 
out  to  me  at  a  time  when  there  were — those  anxious 
that  I  should  take  divorce  proceedings  against  my 
husband.  The  information  that  was  forced  upon  me 
then,  is  all  I  ever  had,  and  if  I  heard  your  name  I 
forgot  it  the  next  moment.  You  do  not  belong  to 
the  class  of  women  with  whom  his  name  is  usually 
associated — you  are  so  young,  and  it  is  a  year  or  more 

109 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


ago  since  I  first  saw  you.  Tell  me  what  is  it  that 
brings  you  here  ;  how  came  you  at  Delmar?" 

"  You  heard  perhaps  that  I  am  living  now  with  my 
aunts  at  Dale?" 

"  Yes,  and  that  your  father,  who  died  recently,  was 
John  Drummond  the  artist." 

"  My  aunts  are  his  sisters,"  returned  Valerie,  in  a 
voice  that  was  quite  passionless.  "When  father 
died  I  was  left  alone  and  penniless.  Of  my — my — 
fren — acquaintance  with — Mr  Brabazon  he  was  ever 
in  ignorance.  Now,  I  can  thank  God  that  he  did  not 
live  to  know  the  truth.  At  his  death,  and  not  till 
then,  I — oh,  I  was  alone,  there  was  no  one  else  in  the 
world,  no  one  to  whom — to  whom — I  thought  I  had  a 
right  to  go  but — but — him.  I  had  believed  in  and 
trusted  him,  fool  that  I  was !  There  must  have  been 
a  time  when — I — cared.  I  went  to  him,  I  tell  you — 
and  then  it  was  that  I  heard  of — you.  My  whole 
thought  then  was  to  escape  from  the  world  that  had 
been  mine  and  his;  my  one  desire  to  hide  myself 
away  where  I  might  never  meet  any  I  had  known  or 
who  had  known  me.  And  then  my  aunts  offered  me 
their  home  till  such  time  as  I  could  find  employment, 
and  I  jumped  at  the  offer  because  their  world  had 
ever  been  as  far  apart  from  my  father's  as  the  Poles. 
Through  an  accident  I  met  Mr  Wingate;  through 
him  I  met  Sir  Grenvil  Delmar,  who  has  been  so  kind 
to  me.  I  heard  of  you  only  as  Pat — how  should  I 
have  dreamed  that  you  were — his  wife  ?  I  thought  I 
had  left  all  the  past  behind,  I  had  taken  the  path 
which  was  to  lead  to  a  new  life  entirely,  and — and — 
now  you  see  what  has  happened." 

"  My  dear  child,  we  never  leave  the  past  entirely 
behind,  do  what  we  will.  There  is  something  out 
of  it  that  will  always  crop  up  for  our  discomfiture. 

no 


NOK  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 

It  is  difficult  to  tell  you  what  I  feel  about  you,  but 
you  may  believe  that  it  is  all  pity  that  is  in  my  heart. 
There  are  no  others  who  could  understand  so  well 
as  I,  and  that  comprehension  makes  me  see  with 
different  eyes  to  those  with  which  the  world  would 
see — the  world  that  is  always  so  ready  to  condemn. 
You  see,"  and  Pat's  low  voice  was  half  grim,  half 
disgusted,  wholly  quaint,  "no  one  else  has  had  the 
misfortune  to  be  his  wife.  I  wish,"  suddenly,  "you 
were  not  so  young,  I  wish  you  were  someone  quite 
different — the  sort  of  woman  one  might  shrug  one's 
shoulders  about  and  forget  in  half  an  hour.  But 
you're  not.  The  thought  of  you  will  haunt  me. 
You  tell  me  that  all  the  future  holds  for  you  is  the 
promise  of  the  drudgery  of  a  governess'  or  com- 
panion's life.  And  I  know  that  it  will  never  work. 
No  one  will  want  you ;  women  with  any  sense,  and 
sons,  run  away  from  such  beauty  as  you  possess  as 
from  the  plague.  And  I'm  thinking,  with  no  one  to 
hold  out  a  helping  hand  to  you,  you  may  get  reckless 
in  the  long  run,  you  may  look  back  upon  the  early 
ruin  of  your  life  and  tell  yourself  that  the  rest  does 
not  matter  much." 

"  And  you  can  trouble  to  think  even  so  much  for 
me?"  asked  Valerie,  forgetting  her  misery  in  her 
utter  surprise. 

Pat  gave  a  quaint  little  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  she  said.  "  God  forbid  that  I  should 
sit  in  judgment  on  you  or  any;  and  you  never 
harmed  me." 

"  Oh,  not  knowingly,  not " 

"  Not  knowingly,  or  unknowingly." 

"  I  do  not  deserve  pity,  and  for  me  there  is  no 
excuse,"  said  Valerie,  getting  up  from  her  chair  and 
walking  to  and  fro.  "The  more  I  look  back  upon 

in 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 

the  past,  the  more  I  see  that  the  blame  lies  all  at 
my  door.  All  my  life  was  one  of  freedom  ;  I  was 
a  woman  of  the  world  almost  before  other  girls  are 
out  of  the  nursery.  I  learned  much ;  but  one  thing 
I  never  learned — and  that  was  doubt,  mistrust  No 
one  in  all  my  life  had  ever  cheated  me  ;  I  had  never 
need  to  lie,  and  so  the  truth  came  easily.  As  I  have 
told  you,  I  kept  my  acquaintance  with  Mr  Brabazon 
a  secret — by  his  express  wish — from  my  father,  but 
I  did  not  lie  to  him  about  it"  Then  she  came  nearer 
to  Mrs  Brabazon. 

"  You  have  been  very  good  to  me,"  she  said  softly. 
"I  cannot  be  sorry  that  I  have  met  you.     But  there  is 
still  one  kindness  that  you  can  show  me  if  you  will" 
"  And  that  ?  " 

"  Is  to  forget  me — this  day — utterly.  I  was  going 
to  leave  here  soon,  now  it  shall  be  at  once.  Will  you 
wipe  out  from  your  memory  these  last  two  hours  ?  " 

"You  mean  that  you  want  me  never  to  say 
anything  of  what  I  know  to  anyone?  You  need 
hardly  fear." 

a  You  mistake  me,"  returned  Valerie  flushing.  "  I 
meant  that — that — I  want  to  be  quite  forgotten  by 
you  and  all — all — your  friends.  And  now,  as  you 
promised  to  send  me  home,  I  will  say  good-bye. 
Though  I  have  asked  you  to  forget  me,  I  think  I  shall 
never  quite  forget  you." 

She  did  not  hold  out  her  hand,  and  when  Fat  had 
rung  the  bell  and  given  an  order  about  the  carriage, 
she  moved  to  the  door. 

Pat  ran  after  her.  "You're  not  going  to  do 
anything  foolish  I  "  she  said.  "  You'll — you'll — oh 
you  won't  go  coasting  down-hill  just  because  you 
think  all  the  world  is  against  you  ?  It  isn't  There 
is  scarcely  anything  you  can't  live  down — it  is 

ill 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


not  impossible  to  retrieve  a  false  step — always.  After 
we  met  at  Delmar,  when  I  recognised  you  and  you 
saw  that  I  did,  I  thought  it  best  that  we  should  have 
this  talk  ;  but  if  it  has  seemed  to  make  things  harder 
for  you  than  ever — I  shall  never  forgive  myself." 

"  No,"  returned  Valerie,  and  the  heavy  tears  were 
in  her  eyes  now.  "If  that  were  possible,  I  think  the 
way  may  seem  a  little  easier."  And  then,  impulsively, 
she  stretched  out  her  hand,  and  Mrs  Brabazon  held 
it  closely  for  a  long  minute. 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


XII 


VALERIE  DRUMMOND  had  scarcely  left 
the  house  when  Grenvil  Delmar  turned  in 
at  the  lodge  gates.     He  looked  after  the 
disappearing  brougham  with  some  curiosity, 
but  he  did  not  pause  on  his  way.     Five  minutes  later 
he  heard  the  soft  rustle  of  Pat's  skirts  as  she  came 
down    the   stairs  and  then  to   him    in    the    small 
drawing-room. 

Her  eyebrows  were  uplifted,  and  her  smile  was 
soft ;  but  there  was  a  touch  of  absence  in  the  way 
she  gave  him  her  hands  that  set  him  wondering. 

"  Why  did  you  leave  Delmar  so  early  ? "  he  asked 
her.  "  You  knew  that  I  could  not  get  back  before ; 
and  when  I'd  raced  home  like  mad,  it  was  to  find 
you  had  already  left,  with  Miss  Drummond.  Was  it 
she  who  drove  by  me  just  now,  out  of  these  gates  ? " 

"Poor  boy!"  said  Pat,  stirring  her  fingers  gently 
in  his,  but  still  keeping  the  little  frown  on  her  fore- 
head. "Yes,  it  was  Miss  Drummond.  I'm  sorry  I 
could  not  wait ;  but  I  knew  .  .  ." 

"  Look  here,  Pat,"  said  Delmar  anxiously,  "  there's 
something  on  your  mind,  something  you're  worried 
about  I  don't  believe,"  giving  her  the  gentlest  of 
little  shakes,  "  that  you  know  I  am  here  at  all." 

At  this  she  laughed,  and,  for  half  a  second,  leant 
her  soft  cheek  against  his  arm.  Then  she  took  to 
pacing  up  and  down  the  room  several  times,  and 
finally  threw  herself  into  a  big  chair. 

114 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  There  is.  I  am  worried,"  she  declared,  looking 
up  at  Delmar.  "  I  may  as  well  own  it  to  you, 
because  you  would  be  sure  to  find  me  out  anyway. 
Oh,  Gren,"  getting  up  suddenly,  and  resting  both  her 
little  hands  on  his  arm,  "  I  meant  that  no  one  should 
ever  hear.  Even  from  you  I  was  wondering  if  I 
should  keep  it  a  secret ;  and  just  as  I  was  thinking 
so,  they  came  up  to  tell  me  you  were  here." 

"  You  admit  that  something  is  troubling  you,  and 
that  still  you  would  leave  me  in  ignorance?"  he 
answered,  with  surprise  and  no  little  reproach. 

"Oh,  that  was  just  the  thought  for  the  moment. 
I  don't  suppose  it  would  have  held  good  for  long. 
Gren,"  looking  round  to  see  that  the  doors  were 
securely  closed;  "it  is  about  Miss  Drummond." 

"  Miss  Drummond  ?  Why,  what  on  earth  has 
happened  to  concern  you  about  her  ?  Pat,  what  do 
you  mean?  Explain." 

"  It  is  not  easy.  It  is — oh,  whom  do  you  think 
she  really  is?  You'd  never  believe  it — never  think 
it  possible!  And  I — oh,  I  hate  to  think  of  it  I 
hate  to  break  through  my  rule  of  never  speaking — 
his — name  to — you." 

Delmar  paled  a  little  beneath  his  healthy  bronze. 
He  knew  she  was  going  to  speak  of  her  husband, 
and  he  made  no  attempt  to  interrupt  her. 

"You  remember  that  time,  a  little  more  than  a 
year  ago,  when  the  people  from  Mr  Chester  came 
to  me,  and — and " 

"You  mean  when  you  might  have  had  your 
freedom  without  an  instant's  trouble ;  when  all  the 
world,  even  your  own  mother,  who,  God  forgive 
her,  brought  all  the  misery  into  your  life,  blamed 
you  that  you  would  not  take  it,"  returned  Delmar 
hotly. 

"S 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"Yes;  then.  Well,  you  remember  that  a  certain 
woman  was  pointed  out  to  me.  I  heeded  very  little, 
and  I  don't  think  I  ever  heard  her  name.  That 
woman  I  recognised  to-day  in — in  Miss  Drummond." 

"Good  God!" 

The  two  words  dropped  slowly,  in  absolute  horror, 
from  Delmar's  lips ;  and  he  was  silent  for  a  full 
minute  afterwards,  incapable  of  uttering  another 
sound. 

"You're  not  mistaken — you're  sure  you  are  not 
wrong?"  he  said  at  last 

"  No,  I'm  not  mistaken.  I  wish  with  all  my  heart 
and  soul  that  I  might  be.  But  I  recognised  her 
instantly — she  saw  that  I  did  ;  and  I  brought  her 
here  with  me  from  Delmar  just  now ;  and  oh ! 
Gren,  it  is  all  true.  It  is  over — everything  is  ended 
— between  them  now.  It  is  not  hard  to  understand 
that  he  deserted  her,  cast  her  aside,  when  at  her 
father's  death  she  turned  to  him  as  to  the  only  soul 
on  earth  to  whom  she  could  turn." 

"No,  it  is  not  But  it  is  harder  to  understand 
that  you  can  speak  of  her  as  though  she  had  your 
pity." 

"And  so  she  has.  Only  think  for  a  moment — 
only  remember  her  as  she  has  seemed  to  you 
through  the  little  time  that  you  have  known  her, 
and  you  will  pity  her  too." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Delmar,  with  less  justice 
than  he  generally  displayed.  "  I  must  admit  that 
she  is  a  most  charmingly  beautiful  woman,  but  she 
does  not  impress  me  as  one  who  was  ever  among 
the  sweet  simple  innocents ;  and  I  confess  that  I 
cannot  help  thinking  she  has  entered  her  aunts'  and 
my  house  under  false  pretences." 

The  moment  the  words  had  escaped  him  he  felt 
116 


TsTOK  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


a  certain  shame  at  them,  and  with  Pat's  sweet  eyes 
upon  him  that  shame  increased. 

"  Don't  mistake  me,"  he  added  quickly,  "  I  don't 
mean  to  be  hard  on  the  girl,  on  any  woman ;  but 
in  the  circumstances  .  .  ." 

"In  the  circumstances  you  can  hardly  be  a  fair 
judge,"  interrupted  Pat,  "and  I  can  hardly  expect 
it  The  mere  knowledge  that  this  poor  child  is 
one  of  his  victims  prejudices  you  against  her.  I 
don't  suppose  that  there  is  a  man  living,  worth  the 
name,  who  could  help  a  feeling  of  contempt  coming 
uppermost  for  the  woman  who  could  be  deceived 
and  cheated  by  such  a  man  as  Cuthbert  Brabazon. 
But  I  am  a  woman,  and,  worse  still,  I  am  his  wife ; 
and  though  there  never  was  a  moment  in  my  life 
when  I  could  even  tolerate  him,  though  what  might 
only  have  been  indifference  was  turned  to  loathing 
when  I  was  driven  into  marriage  with  him,  I  was 
forced  for  a  short  time  to  spend  all  my  life  with 
him,  and  I  realised  then  that  there  might  be  women 
in  the  world — nay,  that  there  were  many  of  them — for 
whom  he  held  some  attraction  that  was  inexplicable 
to  me.  Why  are  you  hard  on  her,  whom  he 
cheated  and  ruined  ?  Don't  you  think  that  the 
greater  contempt  is  due  to  the  woman  who  could 
have  become  his  wife?" 

"Pat!" 

Delmar  had  seized  her  hands,  and  had  drawn 
her  nearer  to  him  with  a  half  protecting,  half  angry 
movement 

"Ah,"  she  said  softly,  "you  love  me,  and  your  heart 
is  filled  with  hatred  for  those  who  have  wronged 
me.  You  love  me,  and  you  would  wash  your 
memory  clear  of  all  those  who  have  shared  even  a 
portion  of  my  past  You  love  me,  and  you  cannot 

"7 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


be  even  just  to  one  who  has  caused  me  a  moment's 
pain.  I  can  understand  it — it  is  so  sweet,  all  the 
comfort  I  have  in  life  to  know  it — but  I  would  have 
your  lenience  this  once,  because  I  want  your  help." 

"  My  help !  When  you  know  that  all  my  life  is  at 
your  service," 

She  wound  her  fingers  closely  round  his.  Perhaps 
she  knew  that  with  their  soft  touch  she  might  lead 
him  whither  she  would. 

"Look  you,"  she  said,  "that  girl's  life  may  be 
made  or  marred  from  this  hour.  Promise  me  you 
won't  help  to  mar  it" 

"Good  heavens!  Why  should  I  seek  to  injure 
her?  It  is  nothing  to  me  if  I  never  set  eyes  upon 
her  again." 

"  No,  but  it  will  be  something  to  you  if  Kerr 
marries  her.  Ah,  you  see  what  I  am  thinking! 
The  blindest  person  in  all  the  world  could  see  at 
once  that  he  is  in  love  with  her;  and  with  Kerr,  to 
love  once  is  to  love  always." 

"By  Jove!  I'd  forgotten  that!  I  know  that  he 
is  very  much  attracted.  I  believe,  with  you,  that 
he  cares.  Pat,  you  can't  mean  that  you  want  him 
left  in  ignorance." 

"  I  do.  Would  you  have  anyone  come  to  you 
and  whisper  so  much  as  a  word  against  me  ? " 

"  Don't,"  he  pleaded  hoarsely.  "  How  dare  you 
bracket  yourself  with  ..." 

"Dear,  you  set  me  on  a  pedestal.  But  in  the 
world's  eyes  I  am  just  a  woman  who  made  a 
marriage  of  convenience  with  her  eyes  open,  who 
goes  her  way  while  her  husband  goes  his,  and  who 
is  in  love  with  another  man.  There  are  plenty  who 
open  their  doors  to  me  and  kiss  me  on  both  cheeks, 
because  they  dare  not  do  anything  else ;  but  in 

nS 


NOB,  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 

their  secret  hearts  I  don't  expect  they  rate  mi- 
very  highly.  More  than  that,  they  would  nev*.i 
understand,  or  want  to  believe  that  there  never 
has  been,  and  never  will  be,  a  touch  of  wrong  and 
shame  in  the  love  we  bear  to  each  other.  I,  in  a 
measure,  am  protected,  even  in  the  bearing  of  the 
disgraced  name  which  is  mine,  but  that  girl  is  utterly 
alone.  I  would  stake  my  life  that  her  heart  is  true 
and  her  instincts  are  pure.  If  her  chances  are  taken 
from  her  at  the  outset,  who  shall  say  whither  she 
may  drift  ?  " 

"She  may  count  herself  in  luck,  at  all  events," 
Delmar  said,  with  a  half  jealous  ring  in  his  nice 
voice,  "to  have  gained  such  a  champion,  such  a 
special  pleader  as  yourself." 

But  Pat  made  a  little,  half  impatient  gesture. 

"  I  might  never  have  heard  of  her ;  but  as  things 
have  turned  out,"  she  returned,  "it  is  a  case  that 
seems  to  go  right  home  to  my  heart.  If  she  had 
been  any  other  woman  I  should  not  have  cared,  but 
as  it  is,  I  can't  forget  her,  or  cease  to  pity  her.  Oh, 
and  more  than  that,  I  cannot  help  envying  her." 

"Envy  her!     You?" 

"Yes;  is  she  not  at  least  free?  Has  he  not  divided 
his  life  from  hers  for  all  time  ?  And  I,  till  that  hour 
when  he  dies  or  I  die,  am  bound  to  him  by  ties  that 
nothing  can  break." 

"  Because  you  will  not  let  them  be  broken,"  he 
answered  swiftly.  "  Pat !  it  rests  with  you — all  with 
you.  My  dear,  what  is  the  world  to  us?  What 
is  its  opinion  ?  Need  we  care  how  it  talks  and  how 
it  wonders?  Will  you  live  out  this  life  of  yours 
that  at  best  is  but  half  life,  and  doom  me  to  tiie 
miserable  existence  that  is  mine  now,  for  ever  ?  Pat, 
think ! " 

IIQ 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"And  have  I  not  thought,  have  I  not  gone  over 
it  all  till  madness  has  seemed  to  stare  me  in  the  face ! 
It  is  not  my  duty  as  a  wife  that  holds  me  back — he 
has  no  claim  on  that.  It  is  not  my  honour  as  a 
woman — I  know  you  are  dearer  far  to  me  than  even 
that.  It  is  little  for  a  woman  to  give  her  life  up  to 
love,  but  it  is  much  to  a  man — most  often,  ruin.  Do 
you  think  I  don't  understand  the  sweetness,  the 
truth,  the  loyalty  of  your  nature  ?  Do  you  think  I 
don't  know  that  the  greater  the  world's  scorn  for 
me,  the  more  binding  you  would  hold  my  claim 
upon  you  ?  For  you  I  would  bear  worse  than  death, 
but  not  even  for  you  will  I  bring  grief  upon  your 
mother,  will  I  force  your  sisters  to  turn  aside  from 
you,  and  their  children  to  be  taught  that  they  may 
not  speak  your  name." 

The  hot  tears  forced  their  way  beneath  her  eyelids, 
and  ran  slowly  down  her  cheeks.  But  Delmar  was 
silent  Long  ago  he  had  used  and  exhausted  every 
argument ;  long  ago  he  had  pleaded  and  put  forth 
every  prayer.  Now  he  only  bent  over  the  little 
trembling  hands,  and  drew  them  close  to  his  lips. 

"  We  have  somehow  got  round  to  personal  interests," 
he  said,  and  his  voice  gave  indication  of  great  self- 
repression.  "You  were  speaking  of  Kerr,  and  the 
possibility  of  his " 

"The  certainty  of  his  love  for — for  Valerie 
Drummond." 

"And  do  you  think  he  will  thank  us  in  the  long 
run  ?  Do  you  think  he  will  be  grateful  if  we  let  him 
link  his  life  to  one  that  he  now  holds  pure  and  blame- 
less, knowing  what  we  know  ?  God  forbid  that  I 
should  interfere  between  him  and  the  woman  he 
cares  for,  or  that  I  should  deem  myself  fit  to  sit  in 
judgment  upon  her;  but  if  he  should  discover  the 


NOB  ALL  YOUK  TEAKS 


truth,  when  he  discovers  it,  as  he  surely  will  when 
it  is  too  late,  what  do  you  think  he  will  have  to  say 
to  us?" 

"If  he  loves  her,  will  anything  matter?  If  you 
knew  me  to  be  the  vilest  criminal  on  earth,  to-morrow, 
would  it  make  you  turn  from  me  ?  " 

"  No ;  but — you  know  him  as  well  as  I — I  have 
a  fancy  that — that  this  is  the  sort  of  thing  he  would 
never  forgive,  even  in  love.  He  is  not  a  man  to  love 
lightly,  or  more  than  once.  The  affection  he  gives 
to  a  woman  will  only  be  given  to  the  woman  he  will 
worship  as  his  wife  and  the  mother  of  his  children. 
And  it  will  be  an  affection  that  has  never  been 
wasted,  that  in  all  its  rich  treasure  of  perfect  faith 
and  purity  has  waited  to  be  lavished  on  one  worthy 
of  it  I  could  wish  that  this  secret  of  the  girl's  life 
had  never  been  made  known  to  us,  dear,  or  that " 

"  Oh,  and  I  wish  it  too.  But  since  it  is  known  to 
us,  can  we  not  help  her  rather  than  cast  her  down." 

"  May  you  not  be  distressing  yourself  needlessly  ? " 
Delmar  interposed.  u  May  it  not  be  that  she  will 
refuse  to  accept  his  love,  at  least  without  telling  him 
the  truth?  I  almost  believe  that  if  a  woman  for 
whom  Kerr  cared  had  the  courage  to  be  truthful, 
he  would  forgive  her." 

"  I  had  not  quite  thought  of  that,"  admitted  Pat, 
but  still  a  little  restlessly.  "  I  think  she  is  the  sort 
of  girl  who  would  be  above  that  sort  of  deception. 
And  yet,  when  one  cares — and  with  one's  own  hand 
one  may  stretch  out  and  gather  joy  or  sign  one's 
own  death  warrant — it  is  hard  to  say  what  hold 
temptation  might  have.  She  begged  me  to  forget 
her  utterly,  and  this  day,  and  said  that  she  wished 
all  my  friends  to  forget  her.  Perhaps  she  may  have 
been  thinking  of  Kerr.  And  she  said,  too,  that  she 

lai 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


would  go  away  from  here  at  once.  Poor  child,  she 
had  come  here  thinking  to  escape  all  the  past, 
everyone  from  her  old  world — or  his !  It  seems  a 
cruel  fate  that  threw  her  first  of  all  across  the  path 
of  possible  happiness,  and  then  brought  her  face  to 
face  with  me." 

"Is  not  life  one  long  cruelty?"  Delmar  asked, 
with  intense  bitterness. 

He  threw  his  arms  wide  for  a  moment,  and  then 
let  his  hands  come  down  lightly,  fondly,  on  her 
shoulders. 

"  Shall  we,  with  regard  to  this — regrettable  affair, 
make  up  our  minds  to  say  '  sufficient  unto  the  day, 
etc.'?  For  one,  I  shall  say  nothing  to  Kerr  till  he 
seems  to  me  to  be  in  danger  of  taking  a  step  he 
may  regret;  and  then  I  shall  not  speak  without 
first  consulting  you.  And  now,"  with  a  long  sigh, 
"  I  must  go.  Say  good-bye  to  me,  Pat" 

"  Good-bye,"  she  returned  softly,  and  for  one  short 
moment  framed  his  face  with  both  her  hands.  But 
she  did  not  go  nearer  to  him  or  lift  her  face  to 
his.  She  was,  after  all,  but  a  woman,  and,  more 
than  that,  a  woman  who  loved  him ;  and  all  her 
soul  cried  out  for  the  tenderness  that  answered  hers, 
all  her  heart  hungered  for  the  warmth  of  his  kisses, 
for  the  fond  words  that  were  clamouring  for 
utterance  on  his  lips.  But  she  never  tempted 
him ;  it  was  always  she  who  was  strong,  she  who 
could  guide  him  with  a  word  or  a  glance.  And 
presently  she  stood  in  the  softly-lighted  hall, 
watching  him  down  the  drive,  and  keeping  back 
the  tears  that  would  have  filled  a  small,  attentive 
page  with  wonder  and  perhaps  amusement 


N0±i  ALL  YOUE  TEAES 


XIII 

VALERIE  spent  the  rest  of  the  evening  in 
secret   misery,    a»<d   more    than    half   the 
night   awake.     Peace  of  mind  was   gone; 
sleep     was     banished.      The     knowledge 
brought    to    her    by  her   visit  to   Delmar,  by  her 
interview   with   Pat    Brabazon,   had   gone  home  to 
her  heart  and  mind  with  a  force   that,  for  a  long 
time,  robbed  her  of  the  power  to  decide  how  much 
it  might  really  mean  to  her. 

She  had  reached  home  in  fairly  good  time;  and 
she  sat  through  the  semi-silent  dinner — to  which 
she  generally  looked  forward,  principally  because  it 
killed  one  of  the  long  evening  hours — conscious  of 
being  very  quiet,  indeed  absent ;  conscious  of  her 
aunts'  half-inquiring,  half-wondering  glances,  and 
also  of  a  desire  to  escape  to  her  own  rooms.  She 
wanted  to  be  alone  and  to  think ;  but  she  had  to 
answer  questions  about  her  visit,  and  to  watch 
Upton  crawling  round  the  table  and  squeezing  two 
lemons  into  two  glasses  of  water ;  and  to  sip  water 
herself,  without  lemon,  from  her  own  glass,  because 
her  mouth  was  parched  and  dry,  while  she  tried 
not  to  make  a  wry  face,  or  to  let  her  mind  wander 
irresistibly  to  that  part  of  her  toilette  when  she 
cleaned  her  teeth. 

Afterwards  she  had  to  wind  some  wool  in  the 
drawing-room,  and  to  make  up  some  accounts— 

123 


NOK  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 


quite  inaccurately — and  to  sip  tea.  Then  she 
heard  about  some  village  person's  rheumatism,  and 
someone  else's  twins,  and  a  great  deal  about  the 
wife  of  the  doctor,  who  was  getting  up  a  religious 
concert  in  aid  of  some  society,  the  name  of  which 
Valerie  did  not  hear,  because  her  thoughts  were 
far  away.  And  finally  she  followed  her  aunts  into 
the  cold  morning-room,  where  Miss  Hermione  read 
prayers  to  the  servants,  who  were  only  a  little  less 
interested  than  Valerie  herself. 

After  that  she  took  up  her  flat  candlestick,  with 
impatience  that  sputtered  the  grease,  and  brought 
forth  a  mild  reprimand  from  Miss  Angela,  who, 
for  ten  minutes  after  prayers,  always  kept  her  smile 
soft  and  serene,  and  her  voice  hushed. 

And  upon  the  stroke  of  half-past  ten,  freedom  ! — 
her  own  rooms — and  all  the  hours  till  another 
morning  broke,  to  lie  wide  awake,  to  battle  with 
memory  and  fresh  misery. 

Again  Valerie  could  see  Mrs  Harcourt's  merry 
eyes  grow  angry  or  sad  as  she  gave  the  history  of 
Pat  Brabazon's  life.  Again  she  could  see  Wingate 
walking  over  to  the  distant  window.  Again  she 
could  feel  the  awful  sensation  of  faintness  that  had 
almost  overcome  her.  And  again  her  eyes  seemed 
to  meet  those  of  Brabazon's  wife,  her  hands  to  feel 
the  little  friendly,  pitiful  touch  of  Pat's  soft  fingers, 
her  ears  to  listen  to  the  sweet  voice,  the  words  that 
Valerie  could  scarcely  yet  believe  had  been  uttered 
by  Brabazon's  wife.  The  mere  memory  was  horrible ; 
it  brought  the  hot  colour  to  her  cheeks,  here  in  the 
darkness.  But  there  was  another  memory  which 
was  simple  torture ;  it  was  that  of  her  escape  from 
the  room  with  Wingate,  and  her  short  conversation 
with  him  in  the  dim  gardens.  That  brought  no 

124 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 


colour  to  her  face — it  sent  a  chill  of  cold  straight 
to  her  heart,  it  seemed  to  tell  her  that  all  her  life 
from  this  day  must  be  one  long,  lasting  regret. 
Every  word  he  had  spoken  haunted  her,  most  of  all 
tnese :  "Do  not  let  us  talk  of  Brabazon.  I  hate 
even  to  hear  his  name  on  your  lips, ...  an  objection- 
able cad,  to  whom  I  cannot  understand  any  decent 
woman  speaking  a  second  time."  She  turned  her 
face  upon  her  pillows  and  writhed  again  in  an  agony 
of  misery  and  shame,  and  bitter,  futile  regret  And 
yet,  even  out  of  hateful,  disturbing  thoughts,  there 
came  back  to  her  the  pleasant  memory  of  the  kindly 
tones  of  his  nice  voice,  the  keen  yet  gentle  glance  of 
his  eyes,  the  irresistible  attraction  which  lay  in  his 
whole  manner,  that  somehow  gave  one  confidence, 
that  brought  with  it  an  odd,  indefinable  sense  of 
safety. 

In  the  long  watches  of  the  night  one  can  always 
see  troubles  through  the  deepest  of  deep  blue  glasses; 
Valerie  saw  breakers  ahead  that  threatened  to  sweep 
her  off  her  feet.  She  must  get  away  from  Dale 
somehow ;  she  must  bestir  herself  about  getting 
employment  To  have  met  Brabazon's  wife  was 
bad  enough  ;  to  run  the  risk  of  meeting  him  was  not 
to  be  thought  of  for  a  moment.  There  was  no  safety 
for  her  here.  All  that  was  left  to  her  was  to  get 
away  from  Dale  with  all  possible  speed. 

Her  aunts  had  promised  her  their  assistance,  and 
she  would  keep  them  up  to  their  promise.  She  had 
some  idea  that  what  they  called  "lady-like"  employ- 
ment would  be  something  very  disagreeable ;  but  in 
her  present  state  of  mind  she  did  not  care  much,  so 
that  they  found  it  for  her  where  she  would  be  most 
unlikely  to  set  eyes  upon  anyone  belonging  to  the 
old  happy  days.  Yes,  they  were  happy;  she  could 

125 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 

not  deny  that.  Though  she  might  have  to  pay 
dearly  for  some  of  them,  she  had  known  much  more 
joy  than  sorrow  in  them.  She  watched  the  flickering 
shadows  cast  by  the  night-light  on  the  ceiling  till 
her  eyes  grew  heavy ;  she  made  all  sorts  of  plans, 
only  to  unmake  them  the  next  moment ;  and,  finally, 
she  dropped  into  a  dull,  unrefreshing  sleep  that  was 
filled  with  restless  dreams,  her  last  clear  thought 
being  that,  first,  she  must  avoid  the  cliff  path,  and 
next  that  she  would  take  the  first  step  towards 
leaving  Dale  on  the  morrow. 

The  thought  that  had  taken  possession  of  Valerie 
as  she  fell  into  her  restless  sleep  took  possession  of 
her  afresh  as  she  awoke  in  the  morning. 

She  gave  utterance  to  it  when  she  was  seated  at 
the  breakfast  table ;  when  Miss  Angela  was  looking 
sharper  and  more  severe  than  usual,  when  Miss 
Hermione  cast  her  eyes,  with  their  customary  dis- 
approving glance,  over  her  niece's  figure,  from  the 
points  of  her  little  shoes  to  the  crown  of  lovely, 
offending  hair. 

"  Aunt  Angela,"  Valerie  said,  taking  her  cup  from 
the  lady's  thin  hands,  "do  you  know  that  my  visit 
is  becoming  quite  a  stay  ?  " 

"Yes.  Don't  say  'stay.'  It  is  as  incorrect  as 
vulgar." 

Valerie  smiled. 

"How  particular  you  are!"  she  said.  "Well,  I 
was  thinking  that  I  should  now  begin  the  search 
for  employment, — you  remember? — in  which  you 
promised  me  your  help." 

There  was  a  short  silence.  Miss  Angela  looked 
over  the  teapot  at  her  sister,  and  to  the  cheeks  of 
both  ladies  there  rose  the  very  faintest  flush,  almost 
imperceptible.  They  were  momentarily  uncom- 

126 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


fortable.     It  was  as  though  this  girl  had  read  their 
very  thoughts. 

Miss  Hermione's  lips  took  that  little  straight  line 
which  put  upon  them  the  veiled,  half  smile  of  sarcasm 
that  had  done  more  to  enrage  Valerie  than  all  her 
aunts'  aggravating  little  ways. 

"You  have  decided  to  try  for  something,  then?" 
she  said,  while  Angela  crunched  toast  in  a  noisy 
accompaniment  to  her  sister's  words.  "We  thought 
that  you  had  perhaps  given  up  the  idea;  or  that  you 
were  going  to  sit  down  quietly  till  employers  searched 
for  you."  And  she  smiled,  in  a  way  that  might  have 
led  anyone  who  knew  her  very  little  to  believe  that 
she  spoke  playfully;  though  no  one  could  have  passed 
over  the  gentle  sting  in  her  speech. 

"Did  you?"  returned  Valerie,  with  rising  temper. 

In  an  ordinary  way  she  would  have  paid  as  little 
heed  to  this  remark  as  she  had  paid  to  many  another 
like  it;  but  the  anxiety  and  the  weariness  of  the 
previous  night  had  told  upon  her,  the  misery  that  was 
tugging  at  her  heart  made  her  fear  that  she  could 
bear  little  more  in  silence. 

"You  were  quite  mistaken,  then,  Aunt  Hermione ; 
and  if  you  were  anxious  about  it,  it  is  a  pity  you  did 
not  say  so  before." 

"I  merely  thought  that  you  might  have  shown  a 
little  more  interest  in  your  future.  To  a  guest,  it 
would  have  been  discourteous  to  have  said  so  .  .  ." 

"There  are  worse  things  than  discourtesy,"  the 
youngest  Miss  Drummond  interrupted  with  what  her 
hearers  thought  rude  haste,  and  with  the  sweet  colour 
coming  angrily  into  her  white  cheeks.  "What  you 
say  now  is  tantamount  to  telling  me  that  you  think  I 
have  been  meaning  to  live  here,  on  your  charity,  as 
long  as  you  would  let  me,  and  with  that  end  in  view, 

"I 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


to  make  no  effort  to  do  anything  for  myself.  That  is 
not  only  discourteous,  but  untrue." 

"You  forget  yourself,  Valerie!"  breathed  Miss 
Angela,  shocked,  and  glancing  a  little  nervously  from 
her  equally  shocked  sister  to  the  quivering  lips  and 
fiery  eyes  of  their  niece. 

"  No,  I  do  not.  It  is  you  who  forget — you  forget 
that  you  offered  me  your  home,  and  that,  having 
accepted  your  offer,  however  anxious  I  might  be  to 
get  away  from  it,  I  should  have  at  least  sufficient  good 
manners  to  hide  from  you  that  fact,  in  the  very  first 
days  of  my  life  beneath  your  roof." 

The  old  ladies  had  turned  pale ;  the  hollows  in 
Miss  Hermione's  temples  deepened,  the  sharp  outline 
from  ear  to  chin  set  squarely,  and  her  mouth  grew 
very  hard. 

"  You  mean  to  infer  that  you  are  anxious  to  leave 
—us?" 

"I  mean  to  have  it  understood  that  I  will  stand 
insult  from  none,  not  even  you,  to  whom  I  owe  my 
home  and  my  bread.  And  when  you  practically 
accuse  me  of  the  intention  of  living  upon  you,  you 
insult  me!  I  do  wish  to  leave  here — I  wish  to  be 
independent  of  you  or  anyone,  and  to  work  for 
myself;  but  I  scarcely  thought  it  would  accord 
with  your  ideas  of  politeness  to  tell  you  so  before 
my  visit  was  a  fortnight  old,  before  my  father  had 
been  dead  much  more  than  a  month." 

"  You  are  exceedingly  vulgar,  Valerie." 

"Am  I  ?  Well,  I  would  rather  be  that  than  petty. 
I  don't  wish  to  be  rude  to  either  you  or  Aunt  Angela; 
but  I  will  say  this — I  have  borne  more  veiled  im- 
pertinences since  I  have  been  here  than  I  have  ever 
borne  in  the  whole  of  my  life.  I — I— could  have 
done  anything  you  wished,  I  could  have  tried  to  be 

1 28 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


what  you  wished,  and  to  have  loved  you,"  she  went  on 
passionately,  with  a  little  impatient  movement  that 
nearly  overset  her  cup,  "but  you  would  not  let  me.  You 
spoil  every  act  of  kindness  by  making  it  felt  that  it  is 
one  to  a  dependent ;  you  give,  and  every  hour  you 
remind  the  recipient  of  your  gift  that  you  have  given, 
— you  would  only  do  this  to  one  who  dare  not  resent 
it!" 

"  And  this  is  your  gratitude  .  .  ." 

"  I  am  grateful !  I  tell  you  I  could  have  blessed 
and  cared  for  you  all  my  life.  You  do  not  understand 
or  know  it,  but  I  came  to  you  at  a  moment  when 
ever  so  little  love,  ever  so  little  sympathy,  when  the 
knowledge  of  even  a  little  comprehension  of  how 
empty  my  heart  and  my  life  were,  would  have  won 
you  my  love  and  my  gratitude,  and  would  have  given 
you  a  claim  on  my  truest  affections.  You  might  have 
changed  me  in  so  many  ways — you  have  no  idea  of 
what  you  might  have  done  for  me — then,  if  you  had 
been  kind  to  me  in  another  way.  As  it  is,  I  can  never 
think  of  you  affectionately,  because  you  have  not  lost 
an  opportunity  of  wounding  me  either  by  reference  to 
my  own  position,  or  to  the  life  I  led  with  my  father. 
I  knew  that  one  day  I  should  turn  upon  you,"  with 
an  odd  little  defiant  smile  that  nearly  took  the  breath 
of  both  ladies  away.  "  I  have  said,  now,  what  is  in 
my  heart,  and  I  feel  better  for  it,  but  I  shall  be  grate- 
ful if  you  will  show  me  the  way  to  those  employers 
for  whom  you  think  I  have  been  sitting  down  and 
waiting ! " 

And  Valerie  pushed  her  chair  back  with  a  scraping 
of  the  oak  floor  that  gave  evidence  of  a  good  deal  of 
temper,  and  went  out  of  the  room,  leaving  her  aunts 
jumping  in  their  seats  as  she  banged  the  door. 

They  were  first  of  all  cowards ;  there  was  that  in 


NOK  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 


both  their  natures  which  goes  far  towards  the  making 
of  the  bully  ;  and  they  had  never  been  attacked  either 
with  so  much  violence  or  so  much  truth.  And  the 
result  was  that  they  were  left  speechless,  and  secretly 
a  little  afraid. 

As  for  Valerie,  though  she  declared  that  she  felt 
better  for  having  said  what  was  in  her  mind,  she  was 
very  close  to  tears,  shaking  in  every  limb,  and  stifled 
within  the  walls  of  the  house.  She  craved  for  the 
sight  of  the  open  sea,  for  a  long  brisk  walk  along  her 
favourite  cliff  path.  She  wanted  freedom,  and  not  the 
close  confinement  of  the  house ;  and  yet  she  did  not 
follow  the  impulse  which  prompted  her  to  leave  it. 
She  dreaded  to  go  out  now,  in  the  daylight,  lest  she 
should  meet  anyone  from  Delmar  Lodge.  She  almost 
made  up  her  mind  to  go  back  to  London,  and  to 
Marshall  and  his  wife,  at  once.  But  she  put  that  idea 
from  her  quickly — it  was  too  tempting  to  be  en- 
couraged, just  yet,  at  all  events. 

"  I  must  be  patient  just  a  little  longer,"  she  said  to 
herself,  parading  up  and  down  her  room.  "  I  don't 
suppose  I  should  be  likely  to  get  anything  suitable, 
anything  that  would  take  and  keep  me  away  from 
everybody  I  have  ever  known,  without  their  help. 
After  all,"  thinking  of  Brabazon,  while  a  hot  wave  of 
colour  spread  over  her  face,  "  he  may  not  come  near 
this  part  of  the  world."  She  remembered  how  he  had 
spoken  of  his  wife's  amiability  in  keeping  out  of  his 
way,  and  she  fervently  hoped  that  Pat  was  doing  so 
at  this  moment  And  through  all  her  restlessness, 
through  every  thought  that  came  and  went  in  her 
mind,  there  rung  again  the  words  that  Wingate  had 
spoken  to  her  but  yesterday:  "A  man  to  whom  I 
cannot  understand  any  decent  woman  speaking  a 
second  time  I" 

130 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"If  he  knew!  If  he  knew!"  she  said  over  and 
over  again.  "  He  would  despise  me,  I  should  not 
have  to  keep  out  of  his  way,  he  would  never  wish 
to  speak  to  me  again,"  Valerie  thought,  with  the 
hot  flush  dying  out  of  her  face,  and  the  old  feeling 
of  shame  that  she  had  battled  with,  more  fully  upon 
her  now  than  ever  before.  And  though  she  asked 
herself,  with  some  impatience,  what  matter  if  he, 
who  was  but  a  stranger  to  her,  thought  ill  or  well 
of  her,  she  could  not  find  an  indifferent  answer  to 
give,  even  to  her  own  heart,  an  answer  wherewith 
to  cheat  herself  into  the  belief  that  she  cared 
nothing. 

Unconsciously  she  was  already  anxious  to  stand 
well  in  his  eyes ;  already  she  knew  in  her  heart 
that  she  would  sooner  anyone  discovered  the  secret 
of  her  past  than  this  man,  whom  she  had  seen  but 
a  few  times,  of  whom  she  knew  scarcely  anything. 

The  day  passed  drearily ;  the  snow  fell  in  heavy 
flakes,  and  afforded  Valerie  a  good  excuse  for 
remaining  within  doors. 

Somewhat  to  her  surprise,  when  she  and  her  aunts 
met  again,  the  slight  breeze  of  the  breakfast-table 
seemed  to  be  forgotten — at  all  events  it  was  ignored. 
And  as  the  ladies  were  inclined  to  make  themselves 
agreeable  to  her,  Valerie  readily  and  gladly  fell 
in  with  their  mood. 

That  night  Miss  Hermione  passed  over  the 
advertisement  sheets  of  the  Morning  Post  to  her 
niece,  with  the  suggestion  that  she  should  mark 
anything  seeming  suitable,  and  hand  them  back  to 
her  aunts  for  inspection.  And  Valerie  sat  for  an 
hour  beneath  the  light  of  a  lamp  mumbling  half 
aloud,  "  Wanted  a  nursery-governess  for  two  little 
girls."  "  Required  at  once,  a  governess  for  one  boy, 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


experienced."  "Wanted,  lady's  help."  "Wanted 
young  ladies'  companion,  age  not  under  thirty- 
five." 

"The  only  really  promising  advertisements  I  can 
see  are  for  parlourmaids  and  cooks,"  she  said  at  last, 
in  desperation.  "  They  ask  for,  and  appear  to  be 
offered  all  sorts  of  advantages  ;  but  the  governesses," 
and  an  expressive,  rather  disgusted  shrug  finished 
the  sentence. 

"I  have  found  one,"  said  Miss  Angela,  looking 
up  over  her  glasses:  "'Wanted  immediately,  a 
governess-companion  for  two  little  boys,  aged  four 
and  three.  Must  be  good  tempered,  obliging,  well 
recommended,  and  have  no  objection  to  a  little  light 
housework.  Abstainer,  Church  of  England.  Salary 
£24.'  How  does  that  strike  you?" 

"  I  can't  say  I  feel  inclined  to  jump  at  it,"  returned 
Valerie.  "  The  light  housework  is  possibly  only  the 
thin  end  of  the  wedge,  and  I  should  find  I  was  little 
more  than  a  general  servant  in  the  end.  I  admit," 
as  Miss  Angela  frowned,  "  that  it  is  a  little  difficult 
to  find  anything  for  which  I  am  suited ;  but  I  won't 
begin  with  housework,  thank  you,  because  I've  never 
even  held  a  duster." 

"  Then  I  don't  think  I  would  let  anyone  know  it," 
said  Miss  Hermione  promptly,  and  Valerie  interposed 
with  haste — 

"  I  might  teach  very  young  children,  but  it  seems 
there  is  little  demand  for  companions " 

"  Not  for  young  girls — in  these  days,"  replied  Miss 
Angela,  with  severity  in  her  voice.  "There  was  a 
time  when  nice,  sensible,  well-mannered  ladies  were 
in  demand,  but  that  day  is  past  Girls  do  as  they 
please  now,  and  go  where  and  with  whom  they 
please.  And  from  what  I  know  of  you,  Valerie,  I 

132 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


do  not  think  you  would  be  likely  to  make  yourself 
content  in  the  home  of  old  people." 

"It  would  depend  upon  the  old  people,"  smiled 
Valerie,  a  little  dubiously.  "  One  never  gets  much 
of  a  salary  at  that  sort  of  work,  does  one  ?  " 

"That  also  depends  upon  the  people.  But  if  I 
may  pass  the  remark,  without  risking  the  danger 
of  a  violent  outburst  from  you,  Valerie,  I  should 
say  that  you — that  your  appearance  would  be  a 
good  deal  against  your  getting  among  nice,  kindly, 
Christian  people." 

"  My  appearance !  Why,  what  is  the  matter 
with  it?" 

Valerie  was  not  angry,  a  fact  which  her  aunts 
realised  with  two  little  sighs  of  relie£  She  seemed 
to  be  rather  amused. 

"  It  is  a  little — er — remarkable,"  said  Miss  Angela, 
while  the  eyes  of  both  ladies  roamed  over  the 
slender,  black-robed  figure  that  was  full  of  grace 
in  every  line  and  curve,  and  upward  to  the  delicate 
beauty  of  the  perfect  little  face,  and  the  crown  of 
wonderful,  waving,  brilliant  hair.  "  I  hardly  know 
how  to  express  my  meaning ;  and  you  are  not  easy 
to  advise.  But  I  would  suggest  that  you  wore  more 
— more — ordinary  clothes,  of  a  more  ordinary  cut, 
and  that  you  parted  your  hair  down  the  centre, 
and  made  some  endeavour  to  induce  it  to  set  a 
little  closer  to  your  head." 

She  stroked  her  own  faded  hair  down  on  both 
sides  of  her  face,  nearly  over  her  ears,  as  she  spoke, 
in  a  manner  that  was  a  half  suggestion  to  Valerie 
to  adopt  a  similar  style  of  head-dress. 

"  I  must  try,"  said  the  girl  good  humouredly, 
struggling  with  a  smile,  but  without  much  enthusiasm. 
And  to  herself  she  was  saying — 

133 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 

I  suppose  there's  a  sort  of  ungovernable  jealousy 
latent  in  even  old  women  like  that!" 

And  the  hours  lengthened  into  days,  and  the  days 
into  two  more  weeks,  before  there  was  any  sign  of 
the  search  for  employment  being  a  successful  one. 

And  then,  one  morning,  Miss  Hermione  read  aloud 
a  letter  that  she  had  received  from  the  doctor's 
wife,  which  lady  had  heard  of  "just  the  post  for 
Miss  Valerie,"  and  hastened  to  give  all  information 
concerning  it  without  delay. 

There  was  nothing  to  which  Valerie  could  raise 
any  reasonable  objection ;  indeed,  she  was  ready  to 
jump  at  the  first  chance  that  offered  her  an 
opportunity  of  leaving  Dale ;  and  so  it  was 
arranged  that  she  should  go  back  to  town  on  the 
morrow  for  the  purpose  of  interviewing  the  lady 
who  might  require  her  services,  and  remain  there 
till  she  entered  upon  her  new  duties. 

And  this  being  settled,  Valerie  threw  off  the  last 
rag  of  care  and  anxiety,  she  thrust  aside  all  fear, 
which  in  a  measure  had  worn  itself  out  by  degrees 
during  these  uneventful  days  when  she  had  kept 
herself  a  willing  prisoner  at  Dale ;  and  with  the 
knowledge  that  she  would  soon  be  out  of  the  house 
of  those  women  who  had  the  knack  of  rousing  in 
her  all  that  was  worst,  she  brightened  considerably. 

Most  of  the  day  she  devoted  to  packing.  When 
tea  was  a  thing  of  the  past,  she  put  on  her  outdoor 
garments,  and  slipped  by  a  side  way  into  the  gardens 
of  Dale. 

There  was  a  high  wind  blowing ;  the  air  was 
crisp  and  cold,  and  the  shadows  of  evening  were 
rapidly  falling  upon  land  and  sea  when  Valerie 
turned  swiftly  out  of  the  dim  gardens  and  into  the 
little  path  which  led  from  them  up  to  the  cliff. 

'34 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


It  was  the  evening  which  would  be  her  last 
beneath  her  aunts'  roof — that  was  not  a  very  sad 
thought  ;  it  was  perhaps  the  last  time  she  would 
look  out  on  to  this  wide  stretch  of  sand,  this 
restless,  beautiful  bit  of  the  sea — that  was  a  thought 
that  held  just  a  vague  touch  of  half  regret.  Far 
away  behind  her  lay  the  land,  that  on  this  clear, 
dark  night  looked  very  fair,  and  a  little  mysterious. 
The  meadows  seemed  to  be  carpeted  darkly;  where 
earth  and  sky  met,  the  great  bare  trees  stood  out 
like  weird,  fantastic  giants  in  a  story-book,  with 
huge  arms  outstretched  to  the  world.  Far  away 
there  could  be  seen  the  twinkling  lights  of  Deeping 
— the  only  bit  of  light  visible. 

She  stood  long  in  the  same  position,  with  the 
darkness  and  the  gloom  in  front  of  her,  the  still, 
peaceful  country  and  the  light  behind  her.  And 
she  shuddered.  The  thought  came,  and  forced  itself 
upon  her,  was  it  portentous  of  the  future?  The 
darkness  ahead,  the  light  left  behind  ? 

With  a  quick  movement  she  turned  her  back 
determinedly  against  the  chill  outlook,  her  face  to 
the  clear  sky.  And  as  she  turned,  she  realised  that 
she  was  no  longer  alone. 

Wingate  stood  before  her ;  and  without  the 
slightest  attempt  on  her  part  at  pretended  surprise, 
she  gave  him  her  hand. 

"  And  so  you  have  come  here  at  last  1 "  he  said. 


NOR  ALL  YOUK  TEARS 


XIV 
T  last,"  Valerie  echoed,  a  little  question- 


The  swift  colour  had  flown  to  her  face, 
her  heart  was  beating  with  mingled 
pleasure  and  uneasiness.  She  had  hoped  that  this 
man  had  quite  forgotten  her,  and  at  the  same  time 
feared  it  ;  she  was  glad  and  sorry  both  to  meet  him 
once  more,  and  she  was  conscious  of  a  foolish,  childish 
hysterical  longing  to  let  the  tears  that  she  had 
checked  so  long,  flow  unrestrained. 

"  Yes  ;  at  last,"  he  repeated.  "  Would  you  have 
me  believe  that  you  are  not  well  aware  that  I  know 
you  have  not  been  here  since  that  last  day  at  Delmar, 
when  you  turned  your  back  deliberately  upon  us  one 
and  all?" 

"  Oh,  not  deliberately,  not  —  only  because  I  could 
not  help  it  —  not  ungratefully." 

He  made  an  impatient  movement  at  the  word,  and 
she  asked  swiftly  — 

"  They—  they  did  not  think  that  ?  " 

"  No,  they  think  nothing  unkind  of  you,  if  that  is 
what  you  care  most  to  hear.  It  was  through  me  that 
you  were  dragged,  perhaps  against  your  will,  to 
Delmar,  through  me  that  we  annoyed  you,  and 
possibly  caused  you  a  great  deal  of  trouble  —  by  our 
attentions  ;  and  so  I  took  it  upon  myself  to  explain 
the  situation  as  I  thought  I  understood  it,  and  as  I 
thought  you  would  best  like  it  explained  Delmar 

'36 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


and  his  sisters,  having  met  the  ladies  at  Dale,  under- 
stood readily  enough;  and  what  I  could  not  explain, 
I  left  them  to  get  out  of  their  own  imaginations. 
That  is  why,"  with  a  sound  of  sharp  resentment  in 
his  voice  that  was  hasty,  and  a  little  less  soft  than  she 
remembered  it,  "you  have  been  left  in  peace." 

She  made  no  answer.  She  had  walked  onward 
while  he  spoke,  and  he  kept  pace  by  her  side,  now. 

"  Have  they  been  keeping  you  a  prisoner,"  he 
asked  presently,  "  or  have  you  been  one  of  your  own 
free  will." 

"  I  might  have  come  here  almost  every  hour  of  the 
day  and  evening,  if  you  mean  that,"  she  returned. 
"You  must  not  give  them  blame  that  is  not  due  to 
them." 

"  Then  what  kept  you  away  ?  " 

She  might  have  answered  truthfully  u  You,"  but  she 
kept  silence — miserable,  restless  silence. 

"  Was  it  that  you  wished  to  avoid  me,  also  ?  You 
knew  that  I  should  come  here." 

"  Yes.  After  what  you  said  to  me  as  I  left  Delmar, 
I  thought  it  not  unlikely." 

"Thank  you." 

a  Well,  I  have  come  to-night,  anyway,  have  I  not  ? 
And  you  may  save  your  unkind  speeches ;  it  is  not 
worth  while  being  cross  with  a  person  you  will  very 
likely  never  have  an  opportunity  of  being  cross  to 
again.  I've  come  to-night  —  and  it  is  to  say 
good-bye." 

M  Good-bye ! " 

"  Yes  ;   I  am  leaving  Dale  to-morrow." 

"Leaving  Dale?  Leaving  your  aunts?  Do  you 
mean  for  always  ?  "  Wingate  followed  one  sharp  ques- 
tion with  the  other,  swiftly,  while  a  puzzled  frown  drew 
his  brows  together.  "  Is  it  some  sudden  decision  ?  " 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  Four  distinct  questions,"  laughed  Valerie,  with  her 
head  bent  against  the  wind.  "  Which  shall  I  answer 
first?" 

"Which  you  like;  only  tell  me  what  you  really 
mean." 

"  Is  not  my  meaning  simple  enough  ?  I  am  going 
away.  For  always?  Well,  that  is  hard  to  say  off 
hand,  but  I  think  it  very  likely." 

"  And  you  knew — all  along ;  and  you  kept  it  a 
secret  ?  " 

"  I  have  known  that  I  must  go  some  day.  I  told 
you  so ;  but  when  the  actual  moment  would  arrive 
I  did  not  know  till  to-day.  It  is  anything  but  a 
secret.  It  has  been  discussed  at  weary-ing  length, 
I  can  assure  you." 

The  wind  was  playing  havoc  with  her  hat ;  it  blew 
the  little  shining  strands  of  hair  across  her  eyes,  and 
with  its  rough,  damp  breath,  brought  a  glow  of  colour 
to  her  cheeks. 

"You  would  have  gone,"  Wingate  said,  "without 
letting  me — any  of  us  at  Del  mar  know." 

And  it  was  not  because  she  could  not  hear  him 
in  the  wind,  which  rose  boisterously  above  his  voice, 
that  she  was  silent  for  a  long  moment 

"  It  is  not  so  very  interesting,"  she  remarked,  when 
the  pause  had  become  awkward. 

"You  knew  well  that  it  would  be  interesting  to 
me,"  he  said.  "  But  perhaps  you  think  ..." 

She  made  a  gesture  half  deprecatory,  half  impatient, 
which  checked  his  hasty  words. 

"I  think  I  am  becoming  abominably  untruthful," 
she  declared,  vexedly  ;  and,  in  spite  of  the  wind,  lifted 
her  head  and  looked  him  full  in  the  eyes. 

"  It's  the  life  here — the  continual  necessity  for 
changing  the  words  that  come  naturally,  for  those 

138 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


which  do  not  express  what  I  want  them  to  express, 
but  are,  perhaps,"  with  a  little  laugh,  "more  polite. 
I  suppose  it  is  not  odd  that  one's  surroundings,  the 
people  with  whom  one  lives,  should  influence  one  for 
bad  or  good — I  never  believed  in  that  sort  of  thing 
before ;  but  now  I  catch  myself  uttering  some  petty 
lie,  or  worse,  some  half  truth,  rather  than  call  down 
upon  my  head  an  elaborate  lecture  that  must  end 
in  my  being  rude  to  somebody — and,  as  there  is 
never  anyone  else  handy,  one  of  my  aunts ! " 

"  I  don't  think  that  need  weigh  very  heavily  on 
your  mind,"  VVingate  returned ;  "  I  cannot  imagine 
you,  in  any  circumstances,  being  other  than  the  soul 
of  truth  and " 

She  turned  from  him  sharply,  smothering  a  little 
cry  of  passionate  disclaimer  that  rose  to  her  lips. 

"Then  you  will  please  begin  to  imagine  me  all 
over  again !  I'm  not  a  nice  person  at  all ;  in  fact, 
I  am  hateful.  And,  what  is  more  important,"  she 
added,  with  one  of  those  quick  changes  of  manner 
which  kept  one  always  a  little  pleasantly  in  doubt 
as  to  what  she  might  do  or  say  next,  "  I'm  very 
tired.  Whoever  put  up  that  old  bench  has  my 
deepest  gratitude.  I'm  going  to  sit  on  it  now,  and 
watch  the  sea,  and  ..." 

"And  tell  me  why  you  are  going  away."  He 
interrupted  quickly,  but  not  following  her  to  the 
rough  bench,  on  to  which  she  dropped  with  a  weary 
air  that  was  very  new  to  her. 

"  I  couldn't  live  here  quite  all  my  life,  you  know," 
Valerie  replied,  with  her  chin  in  the  palm  of  one 
hand  and  her  eyes  on  the  sea.  "  I  only  came  to 
stay  after — after  father  died,  and  till  they,  my  aunts," 
with  a  curious,  half  unconscious  imitation  of  Miss 
Angela's  deliberate  tones,  "should  have  found  me 

139 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


1  lady-like  employment.'  What  is  lady-like  employ- 
ment?" suddenly  looking  up  at  him  through  the 
fast-deepening  shadows. 

"  I  suppose  there  are  many  kinds  that  would  come 
under  that  head.  But  you  don't  mean  me  to  under- 
stand that — that  they  are  launching  you  out  on  the 
world  alone,  to " 

"  Oh,  don't  blame  them.  It  is  not  all  their  doing. 
I  am  more  than  willing  to  go.  I'd  rather  be  a 
servant  than  go  on  living  here.  When  I  come  along 
this  path,  I  think  of  some  poor  prisoner  whose  eyes 
might  turn  always  to  the  sea  in  search  of  freedom ; 
but  there's  never  freedom  from  one's  thoughts,  is 
there  ?  There's  never  ..." 

She  had  been  speaking  more  to  herself  than  to 
him ;  and  now  she  ceased  abruptly  and  confusedly, 
as  she  looked  up  to  catch  his  keen  eyes  bent 
earnestly  upon  her. 

"  I  had  no  idea  you  were  as  unhappy  as  this,"  he 
said  gravely.  "  To  be  sure,  I  have  had  no  opportunity 
of  seeing  you  in  your  temporary  home.  You  have 
taken  very  good  care  of  that !  I  wish  you  had  not," 
suddenly  abandoning  his  position  at  the  edge  of  the 
cliff,  and  seating  himself  beside  her  on  the  bench. 
"  I  wish  you  had  let  me " 

"  Keep  coming  to  Dale  ?  Keep  telling  them  that 
you  knew  father  once,  just  when  he  was  having  the 
worst  time  he  ever  had — when  mother  died,  and  I 
was  born  ?  Oh,  that  would  have  been  a  red  rag  to  a 
bull!  They  never  forgave  him  for  being  unlike 
themselves,  and  for  marrying  someone  of  whom  they 
knew  nothing.  They  would  have  read  you  a  lecture 
in  the  end — yes,  even  you! — and  you  could  not 
have  said  much,  because  they  are  defenceless  old 
ladies — and  they  would  have  forbidden  me  ever  to 

140 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


speak  to  you,  and  I  should  have  disobeyed  them  in 
the  very  spirit  of  mischief,  if  nothing  else ;  and  then 
I  should  have  been  acting  more  dishonourably  than 
I  am  acting  now." 

"  Dishonourably ! " 

"  From  their  point  of  view — yes.  Can  you  imagine 
that  if  they  thought  I  was  here  talking  to  you  now — 
oh,  can  you  fancy  it!  Why,  I  just  tried  to  make 
myself  a  little  pleasant  to  Mr  James,  the  curate  you 
know,  and  he's  the  stupidest  thing  one  could  meet 
anywhere,  and  Aunt  Angela  was  furious.  I  heard 
her  say  to  Aunt  Hermione,  afterwards,  that  '  the  girl 
has  a  way  with  her  eyes  which  is — er — er — most 
unpleasant  1 '  I  was  the  girl,  you  understand,  and  I 
was  boring  myself  to  death  to  try  and  be  civil ! " 

"  I  think  that  Miss  Drummond  was  right,  however," 
said  Wingate,  with  an  odd  smile.  "She  used  the 
word  'unpleasant'  most  incorrectly,"  as  Valerie  turned 
round  in  sharp  surprise,  "  but  you  certainly  have  a 
'way'  with  your  eyes  that — well,  that  I  wish  you  had 
not,  child — at  least  I  wish  that  it  was  one  which  no 
one  else  had  ever  detected  but  myself  ..." 

"  Oh,  Man !  Thy  name  is  Unreason  1"  she  returned, 
with  flippancy  with  which  she  instinctively  tried  to 
cloak  a  sense  of  nervousness  that  amounted  almost  to 
fear. 

"  Is  not  that  a  wish  that  is  a  little  selfish  too  ?  n 

u  I  suppose  it  is,"  he  said,  while  the  eyes  in  question 
met  his  through  the  dusk,  with  a  touch  of  coquetry  in 
their  depths  that  mingled  oddly  with  their  natural 
frank  innocence.  "  I  suppose  it  is — because,  like  all 
other  wishes,  like  all  my  thoughts  of  you,  it  is, 
perhaps,  what  you  would  call  selfish.  It  is  selfish  to 
wish  that  all  your  life  had  been  colourless — that 
none  had  shared  it  ..." 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  How  do  you  know  that  it  is  not  so  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head  unbelievingly.  She  had  checked 
his  words,  that  had  begun  to  ring  with  a  touch  of 
haste,  almost  of  passion,  with  quiet  ease  that  might 
well  have  been  born  of  habit,  at  least,  of  a  good  deal 
of  experience.  And  he  answered  her  with  a  shade  of 
regret  in  his  voice,  that  sent  a  momentary  chill  to  her 
heart 

"  Because,  from  the  very  little  which  you  have  told 
me  of  your  life  with  your  father,  I  know  that  it  must 
have  been  one  of  unusual  freedom,  one  of  delightful, 
careless  happiness.  Because  I  know,  that  though  you 
may  seem  a  little  friendless  here,  there  must  be  many 
whom  you  might  count  your  friends  if  you  would. 
And  more  than  that,  there  must  be  some  who  brought 
into  your  life  happiness — even  love.  And  it  is  that 
thought  which  makes  me  selfish,  which  makes  me  wish 

that  it  were  otherwise,  so  that  in  time — when " 

One  chill,  gloved  little  hand  plucked  at  her  furs,  and 
Wingate,  leaning  forward,  took  the  restless  fingers  in 
his,  and  stripping  them  of  their  soft,  suede  covering, 
carried  them  deliberately  to  his  lips. 

"  It  is  a  little  cold,  after  all,"  said  Valerie  quietly, 
"  and,  I  think,  rather  late." 

As  she  rose,  Wingate  released  her  hand  sharply. 
Just  so  could  he  fancy  a  woman  of  his  own  world 
answering  him,  just  so  could  he  imagine  her  bringing 
to  an  abrupt  conclusion  a  flirtation  that  she  feared 
she  had  carried  a  little  too  far.  The  thought  was 
hateful.  It  roused  in  him  the  half  fear  that  he  had 
determinedly  put  away  from  him  from  that  hour 
when  he  had  first  met  her.  He  tried  to  see  his  watch 
in  the  dim  light,  and,  failing,  struck  a  match  with 
exaggerated  care. 

"It  is  nearly  a  quarter  to  seven/'  he  said,  and 
142 


NOK  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 


turned  with  her  in  the  direction  of  Dale.  A  long 
silence  fell  upon  them,  which  lasted  till  the  little 
private  path  leading  down  into  the  Dale  gardens 
was  reached. 

Her  heart  was  by  no  means  at  rest  In  five 
minutes  they  would  have  parted,  perhaps  never  to 
meet  again.  This,  she  felt,  ought  to  be  her  hope, 
and  knew  well  that  it  was  not.  She  had  checked 
the  words  which,  a  few  minutes  ago,  he  would  have 
spoken  to  her,  and  she  was  miserably  conscious  that 
he  knew  she  had  checked  them  deliberately,  purposely. 
A  little  feeling  of  desolation — desolation  utterly 
unlike  that  which  she  had  known  such  a  short  time 
ago — crept  over  her,  and  forced  to  her  eyes  the  tears 
she  fought  to  hold  back. 

"And  now  you  have  not  told  me  where  you  are 
going  to-morrow,"  he  said,  with,  she  thought,  great 
cheerfulness.  "But  I  must  strive  to  break  myse'f 
off  the  habit  of  asking  questions.  I  hope,  however," 
and  not  giving  her  time  to  answer,  "  that  it  is  where 
you  will  be  happier  than  you  have  been  here.  Good- 
bye, Miss  Drummond.  You  are  quite  safe?  Mind 
the  edge  of  that  dip  in  the  path !  It  is  dark  there. 
Good-bye  again." 

He  held  her  hand  lightly  in  his  for  a  short  moment, 
then  turned  away,  and  replacing  his  cap  upon  his 
head,  strode  in  the  opposite  direction  without  another 
word  or  the  faintest  sign  of  a  backward  glance.  And 
Valerie  stood  where  he  left  her,  dumb,  like  one 
chained  to  the  spot,  her  eyes  wide  with  wonder  and 
heavy  with  unshed  tears,  her  heart  cold  within  her. 

Only  by  a  superhuman  effort  had  she  refrained 
from  running  after  him,  from  calling  him  back. 

She  knew  that  she  had  angered  him  a  little  and 
disappointed  him  greatly ;  and,  intuitively,  she  under- 

M3 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


stood  that  to-night  he  had  depended  upon  her  to  put 
out  of  his  mind  some  half  doubt  against  which  he 
might  have  been  fighting,  and,  instead,  she  had 
strengthened  it. 

**  So  best ! "  she  told  herself,  running  down  the  path 
with  reckless  haste,  and  entering  the  house  with  a 
slightly  defiant  air.  But  her  breath  came  unevenly, 
and  she  brushed  the  back  of  one  hand  half  angrily 
across  her  eyes,  as  she  sped  up  to  her  own  rooms. 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


XV 

THE  next  morning  was  occupied  with  the 
last  of  the  packing,  and  the  receiving  of 
endless  directions  from  Miss  Angela,  who 
had  a  perfect  talent  for  arranging  other 
people's  affairs  to  her  own  taste — a  talent  which 
was  wasted  to-day,  for  Valerie  heeded  nothing  that 
was  said  to  her,  and  answered  Miss  Angela  with 
indifference  that  was  maddening. 

At  last  the  horses  were  at  the  door.  Upton  stood 
ready  to  watch  the  departure  of  the  guest,  with  the 
first  trace  of  amiability  that  Valerie  had  ever  seen 
on  his  sour  face,  and  both  old  ladies  came  as  far  as 
the  centre  of  the  hall  to  take  leave  of  their  niece. 

"You  will  let  us  have  a  card  to-morrow?"  said 
Miss  Hermione,  "and  we  both  trust  that  you  will 
be  very  happy." 

They  kissed  her,  on  this  occasion,  and  received  her 
murmured  expressions  of  thanks  with  gracious  smiles. 

And  then  the  doors  of  Dale  closed  upon  her.  The 
slow  old  horses  dragged  their  way  down  the  long 
drive,  and  Valerie  looked  out  on  to  the  dull,  grey 
country,  without  much  hope  and  without  much 
interest  Again  she  had  started  out  on  a  new  path, 
and  she  wondered  whither  it  would  lead  her;  but 
at  this  moment  she  cared  very  little. 

She  was  glad  that  her  aunts  had  not  offered  to  see 
her  off  at  the  station,  because,  free  of  their  presence, 
she  was  able  to  secure  a  place  in  a  first-class  carriage, 

145  * 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


Indeed,  there  were  few  passengers  bound  for  London, 
and  Valerie  took  possession  of  a  whole  compartment, 
which  the  guard  evidently  intended  that  she  should 
keep  for  herself,  since  he  carefully  locked  both  doors. 
Then  a  boy  brought  her  some  papers,  and  a  whistle 
was  blown,  and  the  train  moved  slowly  out  of  the 
station. 

Valerie  remembered  that  they  would  stop  at 
Hitching,  and  after  that,  run  straight  through  to 
London.  And  she  pushed  aside  the  papers,  threw 
herself  back  in  the  corner,  and  closed  her  eyes. 

Mitching  was  reached  before  she  realised  that  she 
had  well  started  on  her  journey.  There  was  a  good 
deal  of  bustle  at  the  station,  and  she  noticed,  aim- 
lessly, from  her  position  at  the  side  of  the  train 
farthest  from  the  platform,  that  the  guard  took  up 
a  slightly  forbidding  position  close  to  the  door  of 
her  compartment 

In  another  moment  he  had  unlocked,  and  flung  it 
wide  open.  His  face  wore  a  relieved  smile,  and  his 
hand  went  smartly  up  to  his  cap. 

"  Here  you  are,  sir ! "  he  was  saying  briskly. 
"  Thought  you  managed  to  miss  it !  .  .  .  Right,  sir !  " 

And  the  door  banged,  there  was  a  shrill  whistle, 
a  shout  of  "  Right  behind ! "  Then  someone,  breathing 
quickly,  sprang  into  the  carriage,  and  with  a  low, 
soft  laugh,  sat  down  opposite  Valerie. 

"  Did  I  frighten  you  ?  Are  you  not  going  to  shake 
hands  with  me  ? "  asked  Wingate ;  while  with  merciless 
eyes  he  watched  the  colour  rush  to  her  face,  and  fade 
away  again  to  leave  her  white  as  death.  "  I  did 
frighten  you !  Forgive  me ! " 

He  leant  forward,  and  took  first  possession  of  her 
muff,  which  he  threw  aside,  and  then  of  both  her 
hands. 

146 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  Why  don't  you  say  something  to  me  ?  " 

"  I  don't  understand — I " 

"  Is  it  so  odd  that  I  should  want  to  go  to  London 
too?" 

"  I  think  it  is — at  least  by  this  train  .  .  /' 

"Then  I  will  confess  that  I  wanted  to  talk  to 
you." 

"  But  you  could  not  have  known,  you  .  .  ." 

"  I  could  make  a  very  shrewd  guess,  which  turned 
out  to  be  the  right  one.  Well  ?  " 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  Her  courage  was 
returning.  The  miserable  sense  of  desolation  was 
fast  slipping  away  from  her  in  his  presence;  and 
she  kept  her  eyes  lowered,  lest  he  should  read  in 
them  that  the  sound  of  his  voice,  the  touch  of  his 
hands  on  hers,  brought  to  her  a  gladness  which  she 
was  striving  to  hide  from  him. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  was  almost  rude  last  night," 
Wingate  said,  a  little  ruefully. 

"  You  were  vexed  with  me." 

"  I  think  I  was;  but  I've  suffered  for  it  ever  since." 

"You  flung  my  hand  away  from  you  then,"  looking 
down  at  her  imprisoned  fingers,  "as  though — as 
though " 

"Heaven  forgive  me!  I  was  angry,  I  confess  it 
And  there  is  more  still  that  I  must  confess  to  you. 
It  is  why  I  am  here.  I  guessed  you  would  be  going 
to  town,  wherever  else  you  might  go  afterwards,  and 
I  knew  there  were  only  two  good  trains  for  you  to 
choose  from — this  and  the  night  one.  So  you  see, 
there  was  only  the  next  to  wait  for  if  you  had  not 
taken  this." 

"  But  the  guard,  he  .  .  ." 

"  He  is  a  genius !  only  he  does  not  count,  now. 
Look  at  me,  Val!  You  know  what  angered,  what 


NOB  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 

disappointed  me  last  night — why  did  you  do  it — 
why  ?  It  was  deliberate,  determined." 

"  I  know,"  she  returned,  very  low. 

"  You  were  afraid  .  .  ." 

"Yes." 

"  Of  me  ?  "  incredulously. 

"  No ;  never  of  you ;  only,  perhaps,  of  what  you 
were  going  to  say." 

"Why?" 

"I  cannot  tell  you,  don't  ask  me!  It  sounds 
horrible  to  you  that  I  should  say  so  much ;  it  must, 
it  does  to  me.  But  I  can't  help  it,  it  must  be  the 
truth  to  you,  so  far,  whatever  happens." 

"And  it  must  be  the  truth  to  you,  now  and  always. 
You  know  that  you  are  dear  to  me — a  woman  always 
knows.  You  know  that  it  has  been  so  almost  from 
the  first  hour  that  we  met  I  don't  think  I  ever 
tried  to  hide  what  was  in  my  heart — I  only  tried 
to  keep  from  telling  you  too  soon,  I  only  fought 
with  a  desire  to  take  you  away  from  the  dreary, 
unsatisfactory  life  you  were  leading,  to  one  of 
happiness  such  as  you  had  never  yet  known  ;  to  take 
you,  with  or  without  your  will,  where  no  eyes  but 
mine  might  ever  rest  on  you.  Don't  you,  can't  you 
understand  that  what  has  taken  almost  all  the  sweet- 
ness out  of  the  thought  of  my  love  for  you,  out  of 
the  hope  that  you  had  given  me  a  place  in  your 
heart,  has  been  jealousy  .  .  .* 

"You  speak  wildly." 

"I  speak  the  truth!  I  was  jealous  of  those  old 
ladies,  who,  little  as  they  might  care  for  you,  shared 
your  life ;  I  am  jealous  of  all  those  who — who — 
shared  it  before  you  came  here.  Why,"  suddenly, 
"do  you  keep  your  face  turned  away?  Why  did 
you  say,  just  now,  that  it  must  be  the  truth  to  me 

148 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


'whatever  happens'?  Why  were  you  afraid  that  I 
should  say  to  you  last  night  what  I  am  saying 
now?  Val,  answer  me,  look  at  me.  My  darling, 
you  are  not  angry  at  my  being  here,  not  angry 
at  one  word  I  have  said.  You  know * 

With  an  enormous  effort  she  lifted  her  eyes  to  his, 
and,  snatching  her  hands  from  his  hold,  held  them 
up,  with  a  piteous  little  gesture  that  implored  silence. 

"Don't  say  any  more,"  she  pleaded  breathlessly. 
"  Do  not  It — it — is  all  impossible.  You  can't  mean 
it.  You  have  made  a  mistake.  Oh,  why  did  you 
come  here  at  all  ?  Why  could  you  not  just  let  me 
go — and — and — forget  me  ?  " 

"Because  I  love  you.  The  explanation  is  very 
simple,  and  to  my  mind  an  all-sufficient  one.  Val, 
don't  you  hear,  don't  you  understand,  that  you  look 
at  me  like  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  hear,  and  I  understand,  all  too  well.  But 
I  tell  you  it  is  a  mistake.  It  can't  be.  It  must  not" 

"And  I  ask  you  why?  Do  you  imagine  that  I 
am  mistaken  in  what  I  feel  towards  you?  I,  who 
in  all  my  life,  and  it  is  almost  double  the  length  of 
yours,  never  yet  fancied  that  any  other  woman  was 
dear  to  me?  Do  you  think  that  I  have  waited  all 
these  years  for  the  one  woman  to  come  into  my  life, 
and  then  not  know  it,  then  allow  myself  to  be 
mistaken  ?  " 

He  took  her  hands  again,  and  now  pulled  from 
them  the  long  gloves,  and  because  they  were  so  chill, 
chafed  them  gently  first,  and  then  held  them,  first 
one  and  then  the  other,  close  against  his  lips.  Her 
heart  seemed  to  stand  still;  her  eyes  rested  mistily 
upon  his  bared,  bent  head.  She  had  thought  her 
heart  dead  to  love  for  ever;  and  now  she  understood 
that,  till  this  moment,  she  had  never  even  guessed 

149 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


at  its  real  meaning.  However  she  had  despised 
herself,  she  had  still  thought  that  love,  which  the 
misery  of  shame  and  humiliation  had  killed,  had 
been  responsible  for  the  ruin  of  her  life ;  but  now 
she  knew  that  what  she  had  felt  for  the  man  who 
had  laid  waste  all  her  youth,  and  robbed  her  of  every 
future  hope,  was  something  as  far  apart  from  what 
she  felt  for  the  man  at  her  side,  from  the  passionate 
tenderness  that  leapt  up  in  her  heart  in  answer  to 
that  which  shone  in  his  eyes,  and  rung  out  clearly 
in  his  voice,  as  the  pure,  flower-scented  breeze  of 
summer  is  to  the  scorching,  destroying  breath  of  a 
furnace.  And  the  knowledge  brought  her  no  joy ; 
it  turned  her  sick  and  faint  with  even  a  new  dread. 

"  Have  you  no  word  for  me  ?  Are  you  not  going 
to  answer  my  question,  and  tell  me  why  you  look 
upon  my  love  as  impossible,  a  mistake?" 

Further  silence  was  out  of  the  question ;  with  his 
eyes  fixed  on  hers,  while  he  waited  patiently  for  her 
reply,  she  knew  that  she  must  say  something,  and 
she  cast  about  for  some  words  which  would  mean 
little,  and  gain  her  a  little  time. 

"  You  have  known  me  so  short  a  time.  We  have, 
after  all,  met  but  seldom,"  she  began  weakly;  while 
Wingate,  with  an  impatient  movement,  dropped  her 
hands,  and  took  a  few  steps  up  and  down  the  narrow 
flooring  of  the  compartment 

"What  is  time?"  he  said,  suddenly  coming  back 
to  her  side,  and  resting  one  knee  on  the  seat  next 

0  her.     "What  difference  does  it  make?     A  day,  a 
month,  a  year !     However  long  I  knew  you,  I  could 
never  love  you  more  dearly.     I  knew  it  would  be  so 
from  that  night  when  we  first  met     I  knew  it  v/as 
so  when  we  met  again  ;  and  I  have  understood  that 

1  can  know  no  rest  away  from  you,  through  all  these 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 


miserable  days  when  you  have  purposely  kept  yourself 
a  prisoner  in  your  aunts'  house.  Are  you  keeping 
silence  that  I  may  read  by  it  that  you  have  no  place 
in  your  heart  for  me  ?  You  have  told  me  before  that 
I  am  persistent,  and  you  may  tell  me,  now,  that  I 
am  presumptuous  too.  But  unless  I  hear  it  from 
your  own  lips,  I  will  not  believe  that  I  am  nothing 
to  you.  I  will  not  believe  that  you  do  not  care.  I 
won't  believe  that,  though  I  may  have  but  a  small 
corner  in  your  heart  now,  the  day  will  not  come 
when  you  will  give  it  all  to  me — all  your  heart,  all 
your  love,  all  your  life,  your  every  thought,  as  I 
give  mine  to  you,  and  you  alone.  No,"  leaning 
down,  and  lifting  her  face  with  gentle  force  to  his, 
"  I  prefer,  after  all,  to  take  my  answer  from  your 
eyes.  Something  tells  me  they  may  be  kinder  .  .  ." 

Her  face  was  framed  in  his  hands;  against  her 
will,  almost  without  her  knowledge,  she  yielded  to 
his  tender  hold.  And  her  eyes,  compelled  by  his, 
were  no  longer  lowered.  Through  a  mist  they  met 
his  gaze,  and  beneath  it,  answering  it,  grew  humid, 
lustrous,  gentle  with  the  infinite  gentleness  of  a 
love  that  momentarily  banished  fear,  and  dulled  the 
memory  of  every  bitter  thing. 

He  drew  her  upward  into  his  arms  till  she  rested 
on  his  heart ;  he  closed  the  tear-filled  eyes  and 
quivering  lips  with  slow,  lingering  kisses. 

"  Is  it  true  ?"  he  whispered  to  her.  "  Heart  of  my 
heart,  has  the  day  come  already?"  And  then,  at 
last,  she  seemed  to  wake  to  life,  to  memory.  With  a 
low  cry  that  was  like  a  moan  of  pain,  she  put  him 
sharply  from  her,  and  went,  with  faltering  step,  made 
more  unsteady  by  the  rocking  of  the  rapidly  moving 
train,  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  carriage. 

"  Have  you  no  mercy,  no  pity ! "  she  breathed  so 


NOR,  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


low  that  he  could  barely  catch  the  words,  while  she 
shrank  far  away  into  the  corner,  and  let  her  face  fall 
forward  on  to  her  hands.  "  Oh,  what  have  I  done — 
what  have  I  done ! " 

"  I  cannot  understand  you,  or  your  manner  to-day," 
Wingate  said,  very  quietly,  though  one  fleeting  glance 
into  his  face  showed  her  that  it  was  white  and  stern. 
"  What  does  it  mean  ?  What  do  your  words  mean  ? 
You  love  me — your  eyes  have  told  me,  even  if  your 
lips  were  silent — and  yet  you  shrink  from  me  now  as 
one  in  fear.  You  love  me,  and  yet  you  have  tried  to 
put  me  from  you  and  make  me  think  that  my  love  is 
but  a  fancy.  You  must  have  some  reason — it  is  but 
justice  that  I " 

"  It  is  but  just  that  you  should  know  the  truth," 
she  answered  him  suddenly.  "Oh,  bear  with  me, 
grant  me  your  patience  but  a  little  while.  I  have 
been  silent  because  I  am  a  coward — I  have  been  a 
coward  too  long.  You  love  and  you  believe  in  me. 
Can  you  not  think  what  it  is  to  me  to  tell  you  that 
your  faith  and  trust  are  misplaced.  You  know 
nothing  of  my  life,  yet  you  would  link  yours  to  it,  yet 
you  would  give  your  name  into  my  keeping.  And  it 
is  left  for  me,"  with  a  little  ring  of  hopeless  agony  in 
her  soft  voice,  "to  bid  you — to  warn  you  against " 

"  Val  1 "  His  hands  fell  on  hers  in  a  grip  that  was 
painful.  "Do  you  know — have  you  any  idea  what 
you  are  saying  ?  " 

"Perfectly.  Listen,"  she  added,  while  a  great 
bitterness  crept  into  her  voice,  a  bitterness  that  lent  a 
strange  force  to  its  low,  mellow  tones.  "  I — believe  it 
now,  whatever  you  must  be  forced  to  think  of  me 
after — I  do  care,  as  I  never  dreamed  it  was  in  me  to 
care,  as,  six  weeks  ago,  I  should  not  have  deemed  it 
possible  I  could  care.  I  love  you — in  that  at  least  I 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


cannot  lie  to  you.  And  it  is  because  of  that,  because 
I  know  what  your  faith,  your  loyalty  would  be,  that  I 
tell  you  there  may  be  nothing  between  you  and  me 
but  separation — now,  at  once,  for  ever.  It  is  because, 
in  this  little  time,  more  than  all  in  this  last  hour,  I 
have  learnt,  I  understand  all  that  your  love  might 
mean  for  me,  that  while  I  confess  you  are  dear  to  me, 
I  bid  you  leave  me — forget  the  words  you  have  said, 
forget  my  existence.  And  oh,  if  you  would  make  the 
way  a  little  more  easy  for  me,  leave  me  without 
question,  without  seeking  to  know  more  than  that 
there  is  but  one  thing  for  us — to  part" 

He  heard  her  in  silence,  he  listened  carefully  to 
every  word  she  uttered  ;  and  when  she  paused,  a  little 
breathlessly,  his  hold  upon  her  hands  tightened. 

"  I  cannot — I  will  not ! "  he  returned  with  deter- 
mination. "If  you  know  what  your  words  convey — 
if  you  have  any  idea  .  .  ." 

"I  know  what  I  say.  I  bid  you  leave  me  now, 
because  when  you  know  all,  not  all  my  love  can  ever 
bring  you  happiness.  I  bid  you  hate  me,  despise  me 
— anything  except  believe  in  me.  There  are  women 
as  young,  far  fairer  than  I,  who  will  give  you  love — 
women  whose  hearts  you  may  have  laid  bare  to  you. 
Go  to  them,  make  one  of  them  the  holder  of  your 
peace,  let  her  bear  your  name  and  guard  your  honour 
— go  to  any,  but  do  not  trust  your  happiness  to  me." 

"  But  if  I  would  be  the  judge,"  he  said,  his  voice 
sinking  to  a  whisper,  his  face  devoid  of  colour,  "  if  I 
will  not  believe  the  words  you  utter  against  yourself? 
You  may  have  that  to  tell  me  of  wrongs  done  to  you, 
but  never  of  wrong  done  by  yourself.  You  child ! 
What  can  there  be  in  your  life  that  you  need  hold 
secret  from  me,  to  whom  you  are  dearest  ?  A  little 

sorrow  perhaps,  a " 

'S3 


NOK  ALL  YOUK  TEARS 


The  words  died  on  his  colourless  lips.  He  looked 
into  her  eyes  and  read  there  something  that  seemed 
to  stop  the  beats  of  his  heart ;  he  watched  her 
cower  farther  away,  and  marked  the  burning  flame 
of  red  that  crept  up  from  her  throat  to  the  very 
roots  of  her  hair. 

A  low,  sharp  cry  escaped  him ;  and  before  she 
could  resist,  he  leant  down  to  her  again  and  held 
her  crushed  against  his  breast,  while  he  looked 
down  into  her  eyes  with  mingled  dread  and  terrible 
longing  in  his  own. 

"Answer  me!"  he  commanded  hoarsely.  "You 
madden  me  till  you  force  the  question  that  is  an 
insult,  from  me.  What  is  there  in  your  life 
which ..." 

She  put  her  cold,  ungloved  hand  before  his  mouth 
swiftly ;  and  the  colour,  which  had  burned  in  her 
face,  faded  slowly  away  till  she  went  to  the  pallor 
of  death. 

"That  which  forbids  me  to  be  your  wife,  or  the 
wife  of  any  man,"  she  said  very  slowly. 

And  in  the  utterance  of  these  words  it  seemed 
as  if  her  last  breath  had  gone  from  her  out  on  to  the 
dead  silence  that  was  their  only  answer. 


«54 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


XVI 

WINGATE'S  arms   unclosed   slowly,  they 
let  go  their  hold  upon  her  lingeringly, 
yet  with   a   certain   decision ;   they   fell 
to  his  sides  as  though,  momentarily,  all 
power  had  left  them.     And  Valerie,  free,  weak  and 
faint,  with  a  touch  of  sudden  cold  numbing  her  from 
head   to   foot,  groped   her  way   blindly  across  the 
floor  of  the  carriage,  and  sank  down  in  the  corner 
farthest  from  Wingate,  with  a  movement  that  seemed 
to    show  that    her    limbs    refused    to   support   her 
another  moment. 

But  her  eyes  never  left  him.  They  had  had  the 
courage  to  meet  his  while  her  lips  uttered  the  words 
which  would  put  them  asunder ;  they  had  the 
courage  to  watch  every  expression  that  passed 
over  his  face,  that  was  suddenly  grey  and  drawn, 
that  in  the  last  few  minutes  had  grown  old.  He 
threw  himself  on  to  the  seat  opposite  to  her;  and 
then  he  was  so  silent,  so  still,  that  there  might  hardly 
have  been  life  in  him.  He  looked  at  her,  but  with 
the  eyes  of  a  man  who  is  dazed  or  sightless;  he 
breathed  as  a  man  might  breathe  who  had  received 
his  death-blow.  If  he  had  any  words  to  say  to  her 
they  would  not  come, — speech  was  for  the  moment 
impossible. 

Only  the  rumble  of  wheels  over  the  metals,  only 
the  incessant  swaying  of  the  train,  only  the  steady 
rush  through  the  air  the  occasional  shriek  of  the 

'35 


NOK  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 


engine.  In  a  vague,  half  helpless  way  she  wondered 
if  these  were  all  the  sounds  the  world  held,  all  it 
would  ever  hold  for  her.  It  seemed  now  as  though 
she  had  been  robbed  of  life,  but  yet  that  the  full  power 
to  suffer  had  been  left  to  her. 

The  dim,  grey  afternoon  grew  darker  to  her  eyes, 
earth  and  sky  seemed  to  join  in  a  wide,  mocking 
smile  at  her.  The  silence  was  almost  unendurable, 
yet  she  was  as  powerless  to  break  it  as  he.  And  the 
minutes  lengthened  into  perhaps  half  an  hour — she 
never  knew;  only  once  he  stirred,  and  that  was  to  go 
to  the  other  side  of  the  compartment  and  to  let  his 
unseeing  eyes  gaze  out  upon  the  gloomy  country  that 
for  ever  more  would  be  hideous  in  his  sight  A  slight 
shudder  passed  over  her :  she  noticed  that  half 
unconsciously,  perhaps  instinctively,  he  had  put  the 
distance  of  the  whole  carriage  between  them.  She 
sat  crouched  far  into  her  corner,  her  eyes  only  stealing 
glances  at  his  stern  face  now  and  again,  her  hands 
clasped  tightly  in  her  lap. 

It  came  to  her  that  if  she  had  been  less  truthful,  if 
she  had  held  her  peace,  she  might  have  been  the 
happiest  woman  on  earth  at  this  moment  instead  of 
the  most  miserable.  Pat  Brabazon  would  never 
betray  her,  the  little  world  that  had  been  hers  might 
have  been  dead  to  her  from  this  moment  if  she  had 
so  willed  it — Wingate  would  have  been  more  than 
willing  to  take  her  to  the  farthest  corner  of  the  earth 
— her  secret  might  have  remained  locked  away  in  her 
own  breast  from  him  .  .  .  She  thrust  aside  the 
thought  with  the  same  gesture  as  she  might  have 
thrust  aside  some  object,  some  living  thing  abhorrent 
to  her.  It  had  never  once  occurred  to  her  to  try 
to  deceive  him.  His  love,  his  complete  faith  in  her, 
his  whole  clean,  simple  life,  spent  in  worship  of  her, 

156 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


would  have  been  torture  unspeakable  if  her  soul 
might  not  be  laid  bare  to  him,  if  her  eyes  must  fall 
beneath  that  searching  glance  of  his. 

The  sudden  movement  she  made,  the  unconscious 
throwing  out  of  her  hands,  as  the  thought  presented 
itself,  and  as  it  was  thrust  from  her  mind,  roused 
Wingate.  His  eyes  came  back  from  their  hazy 
contemplation  of  the  dull,  moving  landscape ;  slowly 
he  reached  her  side  again. 

"  Tell  me  it  is  not  true,"  he  said.  "  Tell  me  that 
this  last  half-hour  has  been  a  horrible  dream — not  the 
truth  1  Val,  say  it  was  a  lie — all  a  lie,  to  try  me — to 
—-never  mind  the  object  of  it  I  could  forgive 
anything  if  I  might  hear  from  your  lips  that  it  was  a 
lie." 

His  voice  quivered  on  the  words,  and  he  looked 
down  into  her  eyes  with  a  look  so  longing,  so  strained 
with  hope  and  fear,  that  for  a  moment  she  let  her 
head  fall  forward  till  her  eyes  were  hidden  against  the 
sleeve  of  his  coat 

"  I  dare  not !  Do  you  think  I  would  wound  your 
heart  to  test  it  ?  Do  you  think  I  would  bring  you  a 
moment's  suffering  if  I  could  help  it  ?  It  is  the  truth 
— it  had  to  be  told,  and  I  had  to  tell  it  I  might  have 
held  you  with  a  lie,  I  might  have  kept  your  love  with 
deception,  but  so,  it  would  have  lost  all  its  sweetness, 
so,  it  would  have  been  worthless.  Don't  make  me 
speak  of  it  any  more — go,  leave  me.  If  you  can, 
forgive ;  if  you  will,  forget  me." 

"I  cannot,"  he  made  answer  slowly,  but  with 
infinite  tenderness,  with  passionate  yearning  in  the 
tone  rather  than  in  the  words,  that  made  her  look  up 
swiftly  in  a  flash  of  unconscious  hope.  "You  bid 
me  do  what  you  know  is  impossible ;  you  tell  me 
what  should  break  down  my  faith,  and  drive  my 

'57 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


love  to  forsake  you,  and  I — I  only  know  in  this 
moment  that  passion  is  stronger  than  wisdom,  that 
life  is  worthless  without  you,  my  arms  empty  for 
ever  if  you  leave  them,  my  heart  dead  if  you  may 
not  rest  on  it  I  only  know  that  though  guilt  and 
dishonour  form  the  barrier  between  us,  my  soul  is 
crying  out  to  you — whatever  you  are,  be  mine ! 
And  yet ...  " 
"Ah!" 

The  one  little  word  left  her  lips  in  a  breathless  sob. 
She  had  read  pardon  and  love  in  every  tone  and 
glance  of  his.  While  he  spoke  she  had  vaguely 
dreamed  of  the  possibility  of  a  future  that  should 
blot  out  the  past;  and  as  the  words  "And  yet ..." 
came  heavily  to  her  on  the  hopeless  sigh  that  carried 
them,  the  little  warmth  that  had  touched  her  heart 
gave  place  to  the  old  chill  numbness. 

She  sat  motionless,  while  the  train  whirled  on 
through  numberless  stations  now,  while  those  that 
were  familiar  to  her  showed  their  names  in  little 
blurred  flashes  of  white  letters,  while  every  passing 
moment  brought  her  nearer  to  her  journey's  end, 
and  every  landmark  told  her  that  London  was  close 
at  hand. 

Wingate  was  silent  too.  At  what  passed  in  his 
mind  after  the  hopelessness  of  those  two  despairing 
words  "And  yet ..."  she  could  not  even  guess. 

Presently  the  train  slowed  down  a  little,  there 
was  that  dimness  in  the  atmosphere  that  seems  to 
belong  alone  to  London ;  then  station  lights  flashed 
out,  some  indistinct  information  was  shouted  on 
all  sides,  and  the  door  of  the  carriage  was  hung 
upon  by  an  ever-attentive  porter.  Mechanically, 
Valerie  was  putting  on  her  gloves,  as  mechanically 
Wingate  put  her  furs  about  her — furs  too  heavy 

158 


NOR  ALL  YOUB  TEAKS 


for  the  season,  perhaps,  but  not  too  heavy  for  her 
chilled  body. 

His  every  action  forced  upon  her  the  knowledge 
that  the  moment  of  parting  was  at  hand  ;  the  lifting 
of  her  dressing-bag  from  the  rack,  his  brief  directions 
to  the  porter,  the  touch  of  determination  in  the 
squaring  of  his  shoulders  as  he  stood  up  by  the 
door — they  all  seemed  to  thrust  into  her  mind,  to 
whisper  in  her  ears  the  dreaded  "Good-bye"  that 
must  follow  upon  them. 

"  I  forgot,"  he  said,  as  he  helped  her  to  the 
platform,  "that  you  have  not  said  where  you  are 
going." 

"To  some  old  servants  of  mine  in  Chelsea,"  she 
returned. 

"  The  address,"  he  questioned  ;  and  she  gave  it, 
too  miserable  to  wonder,  too  full  of  dread  that  the 
few  steps  between  her  and  the  waiting  cab  would 
be  passed  over  with  rapidity,  to  heed  that  he  put 
the  question. 

She  saw  her  bag  being  put  inside;  without  interest 
she  watched  her  boxes  placed  on  another  cab ;  then 
she  turned  and  made  a  movement  as  though  she 
would  hold  out  her  hand  to  Wingate ;  but  he  held 
her  dress  from  the  side  of  the  door,  and  in  another 
instant  had  followed  her.  Her  eyes  sought  his,  her 
lips  parted  in  an  effort  to  speak,  the  tears,  through 
which  she  had  seen  all  things  dimly,  fell  at  last  down 
the  whiteness  of  her  soft  cheeks.  She  could  no  more 
have  said  good-bye  to  him  in  the  bustle  of  that 
crowded  station  than  she  could  have  flown — such 
farewell  words  as  theirs  must  be  could  not  be  spoken 
with  a  hundred  pairs  of  eyes  looking  on.  He 
understood  that  too.  They  would  be  spoken  here, 
perhaps  now,  or  ... 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  Why — have  you — stayed  ?  "  she  asked  faintly. 

"Need  you  ask?"  he  answered  her  with  another 
question.  "Did  you  think  that  I  should  leave  you 
in  that  throng  of  people?  Did  you  dream  that  I 
could  stand  calmly  aside  while  you  were  taken  from 
my  sight,  perhaps  for  ever  ?  that  I  could  see  you  go, 
not  knowing  where  you  went?  Are  you  thinking 
that  there  is  even  a  shade  of  anger  in  my  heart 
against  you  ?  If  so,  you  not  only  wrong  me,  but  you 
misunderstand  me  terribly.  If  I  have  been  silent, 
it  is  because  I  have  been  fighting  with  my  thoughts, 
and  fighting  with  the  desire  to  put  you  first — before 
wisdom,  before  fear  of  the  future,  before  all  things 
that  I  have  ever  held  dearest.  If  I  have  been  silent, 
it  is  because  I  dared  not  say  the  words  that  rose  in 
my  heart,  for  your  sake  as  well  as  for  my  own.  Do 
you  think  I  set  no  value  upon  the  truth,  as  you  have 
had  the  courage  to  reveal  it  to  me  to-day  ?  Do  you 
think  that  it  is  in  my  power  only  to  condemn  an 
error,  and  not  to  realise  your  need  of  pity  and  of 
pardon  ?  " 

"But  though  you  might  give  me  love,  your  faith, 
your  trust  could  never  be  with  me  again,"  she  said 
wistfully,  breathlessly;  and  it  seemed  to  her  that 
they  travelled  many  minutes  before  his  answer  came. 

"  Both  would  be  yours,  always.  But  memory  would 
be  mine !  God  knows,  I  would  give  half  my  life  at 
this  moment  that  it  might  not  be  so,  but  I  know 
that  I  could  never  forget  that  some  other  life  had 
reigned  before  me  in  your  heart  It  is  that  knowledge 
with  which  I  have  been  battling." 

Valerie  was  silent  She  could  frame  no  reply  to 
words  that  seemed  to  her  to  set  them  even  farther 
apart  The  cab,  which  had  been  passing  through  the 
most  dreary,  squalid  streets,  now  emerged  from  the 

160 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


unpleasant  surroundings  into  those  which  were  quite 
familiar  to  her.  A  minute  and  the  river  was  in  sight, 
a  minute  more  and  she  found  herself  forcing  a  smile 
for  old  Marshall's  benefit  and  deception.  He  con- 
tented himself  with  a  low  word  of  welcome,  seeing 
that  his  mistress  was  not  alone,  and  conducted  her 
to  the  rooms  set  apart  for  her,  to  which,  without 
surprise,  she  knew  that  Wingate  was  following  her. 

"We  managed  to  keep  your  old  rooms,  Miss 
Valerie,"  Marshall  said  with  some  satisfaction. 

"  I  see  you  have.     That  is  very  nice," 

"  And  you  will  have  tea  now,  Miss  ?  " 

"  I — think  so.     Yes,  please." 

Her  eyes  went  to  the  little  table  so  well  re- 
membered, to  some  favourite  china  that  had  been 
her  mother's,  to  the  little  kettle  singing  merrily  over 
its  spirit-lamp. 

"  You  need  not  stay  to  make  it,  Marshall." 

The  old  man  permitted  himself  one  glance  at  her 
white,  weary  face,  another  at  Wingate's,  set  and  stern 
as  it  was;  then  he  went  out  and  closed  the  door 
softly  behind  him. 

"There's  trouble  in  her  heart,  and  in  her  pretty 
eyes,  poor  lamb,"  he  said  to  his  wife  below  stairs. 
"  I'm  inclined  to  think  the  child  was  born  under  an 
unlucky  star;  but  I'm  powerful  glad  to  think  she's 
back  here  again." 


161 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


XVII 

VALERIE  threw  her  hat  and  furs  upon  a 
sofa;  she  stooped  for  a  moment  over  the 
tea-table ;  then  a  cup  fell  with  a  little 
clatter  from  her  fingers,  and  she  turned, 
holding  out  both  hands  beseechingly,  to  where 
Wingate  stood  by  the  window. 

"  Speak  to  me !  For  God's  sake  say  something. 
I  could  bear  your  reproach  and  your  deepest  censure, 
but  I  cannot  bear  this  silence.  I  bade  you  leave  me, 
and  you  will  not  go — I 

He  met  her ;  before  she  had  taken  three  steps 
towards  him,  he  took  both  outstretched  hands  and 
drew  her  close,  till  the  palms  rested  on  his  breast, 
till  her  upturned  face  was  scarcely  an  inch  from  his. 

"  I  have  been  fighting  with  myself — for  you  and 
for  me,"  he  returned,  softly,  slowly.  "  I  have  thought 
it  out  in  every  possible  way,  and,  God  help  us  both, 
I  can  see  nothing  for  it  but  separation.  I  wish  I 
could — I  wish  I  could  give  reins  recklessly  to  passion 
— I  wish  I  could  live  for  the  moment  and,  squander- 
ing the  mad  joy  of  it,  forget  the  future.  But  I  can't 
— I  tell  you  that  the  curse  of  memory  would  be  upon 
«\e  ever,  it  would  rise  up  to  kill  our  happiness,  it 
woald  make  a  hell  of  our  paradise.  You  have  told 
me  the  truth — I  honour  you  from  my  soul  for  it — 
but  of  the  circumstances  which  led  to  it  I  know 
nothing.  At  this  moment  I  do  not  feel  that  I  want 
to  know.  Call  it  selfish  if  you  will,  but  the  one 
thing  that  stands  out  clearly  in  my  mind  is  that  our 

161 


NOR  ALL  YOUK  TEAKS 


lives  are  laid  waste.  It  may  not,"  with  new,  jealous 
doubt  in  his  voice,  "  be  quite  so  with  you.  You  love 
me  now ;  but  you  must— -you  must  have  loved — 
then  ..." 

"  I  must — I  did !  Even  for  you  I  will  not  attempt 
to  deny  it.  If  not,  I  should  merit  your  deepest 
contempt  I  called  it  love,  I  believed  it  love!  I 
blinded  myself  to  the  truth,  and  I  let  another  blind 
me,  as  I  let  him  cheat  me.  It  was  only  when  I 
learned  what  such  tenderness  as  yours  might  mean  to 
me  ;  it  was  only  when  I  understood  that  my  heart  had 
slept  till  it  awakened  for  you,  that  I  realised  how 
paltry,  how  shameful  a  thing  was  that  which  in 
ignorance  I  had  thought  love.  I  don't  tell  you  this  in 
an  attempt  at  any  excuse — there  is  no  excuse  in  my 
case.  I  only  give  you,  as  I  have  given  you  all 
through,  the  simple  truth  ;  because  I  could  not  lie  to 
you,  because  your  love  would  be  worthless  to  me  if  I 
took  it  in  guilt,  if  I  gave  you  deception  for  your  faith. 
I  never  sought  you  ;  I  tried  with  all  my  might  to 
keep  you  from  seeking  me ;  you  know  that  is  truth 
too.  You  said  rightly  when  you  said  that  a  woman 
always  knows  when  she  has  grown  dear  to  a  man.  I 
knew  that  I  was  dear  to  you  ;  but  I  would  have  left 
you,  I  would  have  gone  out  of  your  life  this  very  day, 
never  to  seek  to  come  into  it  again — I  would  have 
spared  you  the  knowledge  that  you  have  forced 
me  to  give  you.  But  would  you  let  me  ?  No ! 
Would  you  leave  me?  Would  you  rest  till  you 
had  wrung  from  me  a  confession  that  has  put  upon 
me  the  bitterest  humiliation,  that  has  lowered  me 
in  the  only  eyes  in  which  I  desired  to  stand  well 
— your  eyes  !  Would  you  ?  No — no — a  thousand 
times  no !  You  must  be  just  and  own  that  I  left 
my  home — this  home  in  which  you  see  me  now — to 

163 


NOR  ALL  YOUK  TEAKS 


go  to  that  one  in  which  you  first  met  me.  You  may 
say  I  stooped  to  deception  with  my  aunts — perhaps  I 
did,  but,  as  I  had  mapped  out  life  for  myself  then,  it 
could  harm  them  not  at  all.  And  a  drowning  man 
catches  at  a  straw.  A  woman  who  has  lost  all,  even," 
a  slow,  painful  red  spreading  over  her  face,  "  even  all 
I  had  lost,  must  catch  at  her  straw,  must  make  a 
way  for  herself  somehow.  I  thought  to  leave  my 
old  world  and  all  in  it  behind,  I  thought  to  start 
afresh  in  a  life  that  would  be  hateful  to  me,  but  that 
would  at  least  be  free  from  any  kind  of  temptation. 
I  meant  to  do  it.  And  then  you  came.  O  God,  had 
not  my  punishment  been  enough  without  thatl 
Well,  you  know  the  rest.  I  tried  to  keep  out  of  your 
way  and  you  would  not  let  me.  I  tried  to  escape 
you,  and  you  followed  me.  I  bid  you  go — leave  me, 
now,  and  still  you  stay.  Well,  go ;  but  do  not  stay 
to  wound  me  more,  do  not  say,  as  you  were 
going  to  say  just  now,  'You  love  me  now,  you 
loved  another  who  came  before  me,  you  will  love 
so  neone  else  another  day  perhaps,  and  so  we  part ; ' 
because,  though  I  should  love  you  madly,  I  should 
doubt  you  always !  .  .  .  * 

She  had  snatched  her  hands  out  of  his  hold ;  she 
stood  away  from  him,  her  eyes  burning  with  the  fire 
of  misery,  her  face,  even  to  her  lips,  livid,  her  breath 
coming  pantingly,  and  her  slender  body  rocking 
slightly  from  side  to  side  as  one  rocks  the  body  in  an 
agony  of  grief. 

He  heard  her  out,  and  when  her  voice  died  away 
in  a  half  sob,  he  followed  her,  and  took  her,  this 
time  forcibly,  in  his  arms. 

"  You  say  the  truth,"  he  answered  her.  "  You  tried 
to  keep  out  of  my  way  and  I  would  not  let  you  ;  but 
how  should  I  have  guessed  that  you  wanted  to  escape 

164 


NOK  ALL  YOUE  TEARS 


rne?  How  could  I  guess  that  this  hideous  barrier 
would  rise  up  between  us?  You  were  the  one  woman 
in  all  the  world  for  me — I  realised  that,  I  think,  in  our 
first  meeting.  You  filled  my  dreams  asleep  and  my 
thoughts  awake.  Life,  that  had  been  a  little  dull, 
singularly  useless  to  me,  grew  full  of  interest,  full  of 
sweetness,  full  of  joy  and  hope,  because  of  you, 
because  of  a  possible  future  for  us  together.  Was  it 
likely  that  I  should  heed  what  might  have  been  your 
caprice  of  the  moment,  and  let  you  pass  out  of  my 
life  altogether  ?  Was  it  likely  that  I  should  let  you 
go  without  a  struggle  to  win  and  keep  you?  You 
were  alone,  and  so  was  I.  Your  life,  I  thought,  had 
been  very  empty,  and  so,  for  different  reasons,  had 
been  mine.  I  told  you  once  that  I  was  jealous  of 
those  old  ladies  who  gave  you  so  little  love,  I  was 
jealous  of  the  very  servants  who  had  the  right  to  be 
near  you.  In  all  the  world  I  wanted  only  you  alone 
— apart,  life  was  but  half  life ;  together,  what  might  not 
the  world  hold  for  you  and  me  ?  Love  I  had  never 
known  and  scarcely  believed  in.  No  living  woman 
had  ever  entered  my  life  to  whom  I  would  have 
surrendered  it,  till  you  brought  me  thoughts  of  a  love 
the  world  might  hold  for  me,  of  a  love  truer,  purer, 
holier  than  passion  only.  You  say  the  truth  when 
you  say  I  should  love  you  madly,  but  not  when  you 
say  I  should  doubt  you.  If  you  were  my  wife  I 
should  believe  in  and  trust  you,  I  should  give  into 
your  keeping  fearlessly  my  honour ;  but  I  tell  you, 
memory  would  never  die  within  me — the  memory  of 
that  other — it  would  murder  peace.  You  would  be 
my  wife,  and  I  should  remember  always  that  you  had 
belonged  once  to  another ;  you  would  be  the  mother 
of  my  children,  and  I  should  fancy  I  saw  the  light  of 
another  man's  eyes  in  theirs.  When  you  lay  asleep 

165 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


in  my  arms,  I  should  wake  to  remember  that  otiier 
arms  had  sheltered  you ;  when  you  awoke  on  my 
heart,  I  should  remember  that  another  heart  had 
pillowed  your  head.  God  !  could  we  live  through  the 
torture  of  it,  either  you  or  I  ?  You  roused  in  me  all 
that  was  best  and  truest,  you  gave  me  the  power  to 
love — can  you  not  give  me  the  power,  too,  to  forget ! " 

His  voice  had  sunk  to  a  whisper,  his  arms  held  her 
with  unconscious  force,  his  eyes  looked  down  into 
hers  with  a  longing  prayer.  "  To  teach  him  to  forget!" 
The  words  sent  the  hot  blood  to  her  face.  It  came  to 
her  that  the  power  lay  with  her :  if  he  would  but  let 
her  use  it,  the  power  certainly  lay  with  her.  With  the 
whole  faith  and  devotion  of  her  life,  with  all  the  tender 
passion  of  her  heart  that  answered  every  beat  of  his, 
with  such  love  as  she  would  give  him,  he  would — he 
must  forget 

In  another  land,  in  a  world  of  their  own,  if  once  he 
gave  himself  up  wholly  to  love,  she  would  teach  him 
to  forget  The  words  that  would  tell  him  so  trembled 
on  her  lips,  yet  something  within  her  seemed  to  hold 
them  back.  Even  in  this  moment,  when  all  life's 
happiness  seemed  to  be  fading  from  her  sight,  when 
all  that  made  life  worth  living  was  going  from  her, 
she  could  not  seem  to  plead  with  him  for  herself. 

She  drew  his  face  down  closer  to  her  own,  the 
loosened  waves  of  her  hair  brushed  his  eyes,  while 
into  her  own,  deep  with  trouble,  humid  with  tears, 
there  came  that  light  of  victorious  challenge  with 
the  sorcery  of  which  she  had  mocked  many,  that 
touch  of  knowledge  of  her  own  power  to  sway  men's 
hearts  that  had  served  her  but  ill.  Of  her  own  will 
she  lifted  her  mouth  to  his. 

"  Could  you  bear  separation  now  ?  What  need  to 
remember  anything  save  that  I  am — yours  ?  " 

166 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


The  words  in  their  caressing  softness  rose  to  them, 
but  never  passed  her  lips ;  they  never  became  a 
sound  that  stole  on  his  ear.  Instead,  the  tenderness 
of  her  touch,  the  warmth  of  her  caress,  the  whole 
mute  despair  with  which  she  clung  to  him,  seemed 
to  breathe  a  farewell,  to  tell  him  silently  that  she 
knew  as  well  as  he  that  there  was  nothing  left  to 
them  but  separation.  And  he  held  her  clasped  to 
his  breast  as  he  might  have  held  a  woman  loved  and 
dying ;  he  pushed  back  the  roughened  hair  from  her 
forehead,  and  looked  down  deep  into  her  eyes — eyes 
that  seemed  clear  and  true  as  the  stars,  that  answered 
his  with  nothing  but  the  love  that  he  had  longed 
to  read  in  them,  yet  that  now  brought  him  keenest 
misery. 

In  that  moment  it  came  to  him  that  forgetfulness 
might  be  commanded  more  easily  than  he  had 
allowed  himself  to  believe ;  in  that  moment  a  subtle 
tempting  wove  itself  around  him;  n  that  moment, 
with  her  heart  beating  out  its  misery  on  his,  with 
the  perfection  of  her  beauty  that  might  be  his  own 
held  close  within  his  arms,  with  the  past  thrust 
behind,  and  only  the  sweet,  delirious  joy  of  the 
future — of  the  future  she  could  give  him  if  he  would 
— before  his  eyes,  the  taint  on  her  soul  was  forgotten, 
the  longing  of  his  own  alone  remembered. 

His  strength  was  failing  him,  and  he  put  her  from 
him  so  that  her  heart  no  longer  beat  on  his,  so  that  he 
might  read  the  despair  in  her  eyes  no  more. 

He  went  to  the  other  side  of  the  room.  He  stood 
by  one  of  the  little  tables,  unconsciously  fingering 
the  trifles  which  lay  upon  it  They  consisted  of  a 
small  heap  of  Valerie's  belongings,  which  Marshall 
or  his  wife  had  evidently  unearthed  from  some 
forgotten  corner  during  her  absence  from  home — a 

167 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 


work-basket,  a  piece  of  unfinished  sewing,  a  few 
books,  and  a  large  leather  blotter  bulging  open  with 
papers  that  had  been  crammed  into  it. 

Wingate's  fingers  moved  restlessly  over  its  smooth 
surface ;  his  eyes,  deep  with  thought,  stared  down 
upon  it  without  taking  heed  of  what  lay  beneath  his 
touch.  Then  after  a  long  pause  he  turned  to  her 
with  a  movement  of  passionate  entreaty,  answering 
his  own  question  that  she  had  left  unanswered. 

"We  could  not  live  through  the  torture  of  it! 
Here,  with  you,  I  am  weak ;  I  have  no  strength 
for  the  temptation  your  presence  brings  to  me,  but 
yet,  if  I  were  chained  to  the  spot,  I  could  not  feel 
more  powerless  to  take  farewell  of  you,  to  leave 
you  now, — perhaps  because  I  know  that  when  we 
say  good-bye  they  must  be  the  last  words  that 
ever  pass  between  us.  We  cannot  part  as  men  and 
women  part  every  day — because  they  have  tired, 
because  they  do  not  care,  because  they  have  quarrelled, 
because  one  has  wronged  the  other;  oh,  because  of 
a  thousand  common  things,  for  numberless  ordinary 
reasons.  Ours  is  no  common  case ;  and  though, 
for  your  peace  and  mine,  because  I  fear  memory 
more  than  death,  we  are  doomed  to  live  our  lives 
apart,  I  cannot  go  out  of  your  life  now  without 
knowing  something  of  what  your  future  is  likely  to 
be.  You  must  see  I  am  right,  you " 

She  made  a  gesture  to  silence  him,  and  he  another 
of  still  more  passionate  entreaty.  She  had  come 
a  little  nearer  to  him,  and  he,  as  he  turned 
towards  her,  caught  the  edge  of  the  blotter  he  had 
been  fingering,  with  an  awkward  movement  which 
sent  it  to  the  ground,  and  scattered  the  letters  within 
upon  the  floor. 

He  stooped  impatiently  to  restore  them  to  order, 
1 68 


NOK  ALL  YOUK  TEARS 


and  a  little  smothered  cry  left  Valerie's  lips.  In- 
voluntarily her  hand  went  out  to  arrest  his ; 
instinctively,  jealously,  Wingate's  surprised  eyes 
left  her  white  face  to  look  down  upon  that  on  which 
her  intent  gaze  was  fixed. 

There,  under  his  hand,  lay  a  sheet  of  thick  paper, 
at  the  top  of  which  was  stamped  a  familiar  address. 
Almost  unconsciously  he  lifted  it  from  its  scattered 
companions,  and  then  deliberately  his  eyes  read 
the  few  short  words  written  boldly  upon  it. 

"  Most  Dear, — Only  just  returned.  With  you  this 
evening  about  six.  All  my  love. — C.  B." 

The  date  was  half  a  dozen  months  old. 

The  letter  fell  from  Wingate's  hand  as  though  it 
was  hot.  He  raised  his  head  with  a  quick,  savage 
movement,  as  a  man  might  who  had  been  struck 
full  in  the  eyes.  His  hands  closed  upon  her  wrists 
and  held  her  with  unconscious  violence.  All  the 
tenderness  had  died  out  of  his  face ;  a  hideous 
conviction  had  come  on  him  ;  and  his  voice  rang 
hoarse  through  the  silence,  while  his  eyes  went  with 
a  contemptuous  glance  to  the  letter  that  now  lay 
between  them  at  her  feet. 

"  Cuthbert  Brabazon  !  That  man !  I  said  to  you 
just  now  that  I  did  not  know  the  circumstances  of — 
of — the  truth  that  you  have  told  me  ...  I  do  not 
need  to  now !  Brabazon !  That  man  !  Tell  me — 
tell  me.  Not  even  my  own  sight  will  I  believe 
against  your  word,  if  you  will  say  .  .  .  God !  Is  it 
true  that  you  were  once  .  .  .  his  ?  " 

She  bent  her  head.  No  sound  passed  her  lips ; 
but  he  saw  the  pallor  of  death  overspread  her  face,  he 
heard  her  breath  come  heavily,  and  felt  her  hands 
grow  like  ice.  And  he  knew  that  her  eyes  would  not 

169 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


meet  his.  Then  his  hold  loosened  upon  her,  and 
she  stood  alone. 

"  Why  would  you  wait  ?  "  she  said  suddenly,  wearily. 
"  Why  would  you  wait  ...  for  this  ?  Why  did  you 
wait  that  I  might  know  contempt  had  stepped  in  to 
tell  you  that  forgiveness  and  forgetfulness  were 
utterly  impossible  ?  " 

There  was  terrible  meaning,  terrible  calmness  in  the 
hopelessly  spoken  words.  There  was  equally  terrible 
meaning  in  the  way  her  eyes  went  to  the  door. 
Hardly  knowing  what  he  did,  Wingate  turned.  She 
saw  him  reach  the  door,  his  hand  close  upon  the  knob; 
in  another  moment  she  would  have  looked  her  last 
upon  him.  At  the  next  clock-tick  she  was  at  his  side, 
her  hands  clasped  heavily  on  his  arm. 

"Not  like  that— not  like  that!"  she  cried  wildly. 
"  I  would  not  wrong  you  with  a  lie  ...  I  gave  you 
all  the  truth !  Give  me  at  least  a  little  pity  ..." 

He  took  her  hands  from  his  arm  with  the  uncon- 
scious violence  of  suffering.  He  shut  his  eyes  to  the 
sight  of  her  quivering  lips  and  tear-stained  cheeks, 
his  ears  to  the  pleading  of  her  low,  despairing  voice. 

He  put  her  away  from  him  with  deliberation  that 
seemed  to  turn  her  to  stone.  And  then,  without 
another  look  upon  her  face,  he  turned  and  left  her. 

Valerie  listened  breathlessly  to  the  click  of  the 
latch,  to  his  quick  footfall  on  the  stairs,  to  Marshall 
opening  and  closing  the  hall  door,  to  the  steps  on  the 
pavement  below,  dying  away  rapidly  in  the  distance. 

And  suddenly  a  foolish,  mirthless  laugh  left  her 
lips ;  and  then  a  single  cry  rang  through  the  silent 
room,  the  desolate  cry  of  a  breaking  heart.  And 
the  woman  stretched  out  her  arms  to  the  empty  air, 
and  fell  forward  like  one  dead,  before  the  closed  door. 


170 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


XVIII 

WING  ATE  never  remembered  what  hap- 
pened immediately  after  he  left  Valerie 
Drummond's  house ;  he  forgot  the 
hour,  the  whole  of  his  surroundings. 
He  awoke  at  last  to  the  knowledge  that  he  was  the 
object  of  everyone's  attention,  that  the  shades  of 
evening  had  already  fallen,  that  everywhere  lights 
were  twinkling  forth. 

He  found  himself  walking  swiftly  up  Oakley  Street, 
then,  to  the  right,  along  the  King's  Road.  Presently, 
perhaps  because  it  presented  for  the  moment  a  less 
busy  appearance,  he  turned  and  headed  for  Sloane 
Street,  and  made  his  way  onward,  aimlessly,  without 
any  particular  object  in  allowing  his  footsteps  to  lead 
him  this  way. 

A  shout  roused  him ;  his  own  name  called  out  from 
a  little  distance  behind,  and  the  voice  that  called  it, 
to  the  accompaniment  of  the  slamming  open  of  cab 
doors,  growing  rapidly  nearer. 

"  Wingate  !  Woa — pull  up  on  the  right ! "  And 
Wingate  looked  round  to  find  a  horse's  head  almost 
on  his  shoulder,  and  in  the  hansom  behind  it,  Cuthbert 
Brabazon  waving  his  stick  violently. 

"Ton  my  word,"  he  said,  leaning  far  forward, 
"  you  looked  as  though  you  might  be  thinking  you 
were  the  only  creature  on  the  earth  this  night." 

"Did  you  yell  like  a  fireman,  and  have  your 
171 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 

horse   nearly  sitting  on   the   pavement,  to   tell   me 
that?" 

They  were  the  only  words  that  Wingate's  lips 
could  frame — something  meaningless  was  all  he  had 
power  to  say,  while  he  put  out  his  hand  and  rested 
it  on  the  shaft  with  an  unconscious  movement  of 
detention,  while  heaviness  left  mind  and  body,  while 
the  blood  suddenly  coursed  through  his  veins  in  little 
stinging  leaps,  while  his  eyes  brightened,  and  his 
shoulders  grew  set  and  square,  and  the  hand  that 
still  rested  close  to  the  horse  clenched  hard  upon  the 
shaft 

The  men's  eyes  met  There  was  that  in  Wingate's 
sudden  eagle  glance  which  brought  a  puzzled  frown 
to  the  other's  forehead,  a  flame  of  passionate  hatred, 
of  deadly  purpose  that,  though  he  was  no  coward, 
had  the  effect  of  making  Brabazon  shift  uneasily 
on  the  edge  of  the  seat 

"  What  the  devil  is  up  ?  "  he  inquired.  "  Upon  my 
soul,  Wingate,  you're  the  most  beastly  bad-tempered 
chap  I  know !  If  I'm  hindering  you,  say  so,  and  I'll 
get  out,  but  .  .  ." 

"On  the  contrary,  we  are  well  met.  I  almost 
think  I  must  have  been  intending  to  seek  you  out 
when  I  came  this  way.  I  know  that,  for  the  first 
time  in  my  life,  I  am  powerfully  glad  to  see  you. 
Your  rooms  are  only  in  Knightsbridge,  I  think? 
We'll  go  there." 

Brabazon  leant  back,  his  easy  laugh  broken  upon 
by  the  order  Wingate  was  giving,  his  languid  eyes 
searching  the  set  white  face  curiously. 

"Gone  mad,  or  been  drinking!"  was  his  inward 
comment,  while  he  rested  his  arms  lightly  on  the 
closed  doors,  and  maintained  the  silence  that  his 
companion  seemed  loth  to  break.  And  all  the  time 


NOR  ALL  YOUK  TEAKS 

he  was  conscious  of  the  flame  in  Wingate's  eyes,  of 
the  quiver  of  his  whole  body,  of  the  heavy  breaths 
that  he  could  hear  coming  short  and  sharp. 

"  Now,"  said  Brabazon,  when  they  had  entered  his 
rooms,  and  when  they  stood  alone,  facing  each  other. 
"What's  the  row?  You're  in  a  deuce  of  a  rage 
about  something,  Wingate,  and  you  look  as  wild- 
eyed  and  worn  as  though  you  had  not  slept  for  a 
week.  What  were  you  after  me  for  ?  " 

"  I  am  here  to  tell  you — presently.  Meantime,  I 
return  the  question." 

"  Oh !  I  only  just  happened  to  catch  sight  of  you 
as  I  was  driving  here,  and  I  thought  you  might  be 
able  to  tell  me  something  I  want  to  know  concerning 
Pat  .  .  ." 

"  Whose  name,  as  you  are  well  aware,  I  will  never 
utter  to  or  hear  uttered  by  you." 

"  Oh,  hang  your  virtuous  airs  regarding  my  wife ! 
Who  the  deuce  are  you  to  sit  in  judgment  upon 
me?  And  what  part  of  your  business  is  the  affair 
anyhow  ?  " 

"  She  happens  to  be  a  woman  who  has  my  deepest 
affection  and  respect  .  .  ." 

Brabazon  interrupted  by  a  savage  oath. 

"Well,  let  her  have  it,"  he  said.  "I'm  sure  I'm 
not  grumbling.  But  don't  give  yourself  airs  about 
it,  and  don't  start  trying  to  bully  me  about  her. 
You're  not  Delmar,  you  know,  old  chap.  Her — 
honour — the  protection  of  her  name — I  fancied,"  with 
an  insulting  shrug,  "that  those  were  his  affair.  .  .  . 
Oh,  sit  down !  and  keep  your  fists  in  your  pocket. 
Do  you  fancy  I'm  going  to  let  you  come  up  here 
and  quarrel  about  Pat  with  me !  I  only  wanted  to 
ask  you,  as  you've  been  staying  at  Delmar  yourself, 
if  you'd  seen  anything  of  her  at  Dolly's.  She  went 

173 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


off  from  town  in  a  huff,  and  did  not  leave  any 
address  behind.  For  a  wonder,  I  want  her.  If 
you  don't  choose  to  tell  me,  don't — it  makes  little 
difference." 

Wingate  made  no  reply.  After  the  first  involuntary 
step  he  had  taken  in  Brabazon's  direction,  at  the 
mention  of  Pat's  name,  he  stood  still,  his  shoulders 
against  the  mantelpiece,  his  hands  tightly  clenched. 
His  eyes  never  left  Brabazon's  face,  it  might  have 
been  doubtful  if  he  had  heard  a  word. 

"  It  is  for  Pat's  sake,"  he  said  at  last,  "  that  you 
have  escaped  so  long.  It  is  behind  her  determina- 
tion that  she  will  have  no  scandal  that  you  have 
sheltered  too  long.  Mine  is  not  the  right  to  protect 
her  from  you,  though  the  longing  has  been  mine 
always.  I  am  here  to  speak  of  another  ..." 

"Another  woman!"  interrupted  Brabazon,  in  a  bored 
voice.  "  Oh,  Lord  !  let  me  alone  about  women !  I 
say,"  suddenly  rising  from  the  sofa  on  which  he  had 
thrown  himself  a  moment  before,  "do  I  begin  to 
see  daylight?  Do  I  understand  the  meaning  of 
your  tragic  tones,  and  your  terrible  looks?  What 
an  extraordinary  chap  you  are,  Wingate!  What 
have  I  done?  Made  love  to  something — uncon- 
sciously— that  is  your  special  property  ?  " 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  the  name  of  Valerie 
Drummond  ?  " 

Brabazon  started  as  though  he  had  been  shot. 
For  one  second  his  eyes  fell  before  the  intent,  piercing 
look  of  those  that  never  left  his  face.  But  only  for 
a  second.  He  recovered  himself  instantly ;  a  light 
sneer  came  to  his  lips,  the  old  weary  expression  to 
his  eyes. 

"Little  Val?"  he  questioned.  "Why,  what  do 
you  know  of  her  ?  If  she's  anything  to  you  now,  for 


NOK  ALL  YOUK  TEARS 


goodness'  sake  don't  come  here  raking  up  the  past  to 
bully  me  about !  Jove  !  I'd  forgotten  her.  There's 
nothing  for  you  to  be  so  thundering  jealous  about — 
if  she  was  mine  once.  .  .  .  Good  Lord  !  Wingate,  you 
haven't  married  her  .  .  .  ?  " 

The  words  had  hardly  passed  his  lips  before 
Wingate's  grasp  was  upon  him,  relentless,  merciless. 
His  face  was  livid,  his  eyes  burning.  He  forced  him 
back  in  an  iron  grasp,  and  shook  him  from  side  to 
side  as  he  might  have  shaken  a  dog.  Then  he 
dragged  him  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  room,  and 
took  from  the  wall  a  riding-whip ;  and  while  he  held 
Brabazon  there,  powerless,  in  the  grip  of  one  hand, 
he  seemed  to  hear  the  vows  of  love  that  had  been 
breathed  by  him  into  Valerie's  ears,  he  seemed  to 
see  the  caresses  that  had  touched  her  eyes  and  hair, 
and  met  her  lips. 

"  You  are  too  low  to  be  taught  the  meaning  of 
honour  and  dishonour,  you  are  too  low  to  be 
punished  even  as  one  would  punish  the  most  miser- 
able, sneaking  cur " 

The  words  died  in  his  throat ;  rage  gave  him 
strength  of  which  he  was  unconscious ;  the  whip 
came  down  upon  Brabazon's  face  and  shoulders  with 
such  violence  that  at  last  snapped  it  in  two.  Then 
Wingate  threw  him  to  the  other  side  of  the  room, 
where  he  lay  across  the  hearth,  stunned,  senseless. 

In  answer  to  Wingate's  touch  upon  the  bell, 
Brabazon's  man  appeared. 

"  Attend  to  your  master,"  he  was  ordered  curtly. 
"  If  any  desire  to  hear  of  me,  that  is  my  address," 
and  throwing  down  a  card  before  the  amazed  servant's 
eyes,  he  walked  quietly  out  of  the  room. 

The  man  stood  where  Wingate  left  him,  looking 
down  on  the  form  of  his  master  that  was  not  a  very 

'75 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


pleasant  sight  He  did  not  attempt  to  touch  him 
for  a  moment;  and  then  he  bent  down,  with  his  ear 
close  to  Brabazon's  lips,  his  hand  above  his  heart. 

"  Not  me ! "  he  muttered,  as  if  in  answer  to 
Wingate's  order.  "  He's  best  left  to  come  to  by 
himself,  and  think  nobody's  the  wiser  for  what  has 
happened,  else  there'll  be  no  living  in  the  same 
house  with  him  for  the  next  week ! " 

The  man  looked  down  on  the  prostrate  form  for 
still  another  minute,  listened  to  the  laboured  breaths, 
felt  again  the  beating  of  the  heart,  and  then,  with 
an  expression  of  something  like  contempt  on  his 
hard  face,  turned  and  left  the  room  softly,  drawing 
the  door  firmly  to  behind  him. 

When  Brabazon  rose  from  that  fall  it  was  half  an 
hour  later.  The  room  was  but  dimly  lighted,  and 
there  was  not  a  sign  of  anyone  near.  All  things 
were  blurred  before  his  sight,  but  with  an  uncertain 
movement  he  groped  his  way  to  a  small  side  table, 
from  which  he  lifted  a  decanter  of  brandy  with  an 
unsteady  hand. 

The  dose  which  he  poured  out  was  a  heavy  one, 
but  it  brought  warmth  to  his  chilled  body.  Presently 
he  remembered  all  that  had  happened,  and  savage 
anger  took  the  place  of  dull  bewilderment  He 
looked  round  the  room  again.  With  a  long,  satisfied 
sigh  he  realised  that  he  was  quite  alone,  and  thought 
it  probable  that  he  had  been  alone  since  the  moment 
of  Wingate's  departure.  Then  Brabazon  looked  at 
his  watch.  Scarcely  an  hour  had  passed  since  both 
men  had  entered  these  rooms  together.  This  was 
better  than  he  had  even  dared  to  hope.  Not  a  soul 
knew  of  the  thrashing  he  had  just  received  that  he 
did  not  dare  revenge — not  even  his  man,  most  likely. 

He  moved,  with  more  certain  step  now,  to  the 
176 


NOR  ALL  YOUE  TEAKS 


window,  which  he  threw  open.  He  switched  off  the 
lights,  and  then  he  threw  himself  down  into  a  big 
chair  and  leant  his  aching  head  against  the  cushions, 
while  instinctively  his  fingers  traced  the  livid  weals 
across  his  face,  and  his  memory  flew  back  to  Valerie 
Drummond,  to  the  real  object  of  Wingate's  presence 
here  to-day.  Brabazon  had  not  spoken  the  truth 
when  he  told  Wingate  that  he  had  forgotten  Valerie ; 
he  had  remembered  her  as  he  had  never  yet  re- 
membered any  woman ;  he  had  striven  to  find  her 
as  he  had  never  yet  striven  to  find  anyone  or 
anything;  he  had  regretted  her  loss,  and  missed 
her  as  he  had  regretted  and  missed  none ;  and  now 
he  forgot  the  chastisement  he  had  suffered,  in  the 
memory  that  even  through  that  punishment  the 
means  of  tracing  her  might  be  placed  in  his  hands. 

"  The  world's  but  a  nut-shell  after  all ! "  he  reflected. 
"I'll  swear  she  never  knew  Wingate  in  my  day. 
They've  met  since,  the  transfer  of  her  affections  was 
easy  of  accomplishment,  and  if  he's  married  her, 
well,  they've  lost  no  time.  But  somehow  I  doubt 
it  I  ought  to  be  able  to  find  her  now.  Let  me 
see  .  .  .  Wingate  seems  to  suggest  Delmar — but 
they  couldn't  have  met  there  .  .  .  almost  impossible. 
I  wonder  where  he  came  from  to-day?  He  does 
not  live  anywhere  near  here  .  .  .  it's  not  altogether 
impossible  that  he  should  have  come  from  Chelsea. 
And  he  was  in  a  devil  of  a  rage,  and  was  searching 
for  me  when  I  obligingly  turned  up — or  said  so." 

He  sat  still  for  many  minutes,  deep  in  thought, 
fighting  for  the  memory  of  every  little  word  that 
had  passed  between  Wingate  and  himself,  his  brain 
active,  though  his  body  was  still  almost  with  the 
stillness  of  stupor. 

And  by  and  by  he  rose  to  his  feet,  and  was  just 
177  v 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


about  to  switch  on  the  lights  and  study  himself  in 
the  mirror,  when  the  door  opened. 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,"  said  his  man,  lying  beautifully, 
"  I  did  not  know  you  were  at  home,  sir.  Shall  I  give 
any  orders  about  dinner,  sir — or " 

"  No,"  returned  Brabazon.  turning  to  face  him  in 
the  full  confidence  that  his  features  could  not  be  seen. 
"  And  I'm  not  going  out.  I  think  I  shall  go  to  bed 
to-night  for  a  change.  You  can  prepare  me  a  hot 
tub  now,  Lessing — a  very  hot  one — and  quite  the 
last  thing,  you  may  leave  some  iced  soup  in  here,  in 
case  I  fancy  it  Oh,  and  no  matter  what  happens,  I 
am  not  to  be  disturbed." 

"  I  understand,  sir." 

Ten  minutes  later  Brabazon  went  through  to  his 
sleeping  apartment  and  turned  all  the  lights  high. 

He  was  not  pleasantly  reflected  in  his  mirror ;  the 
beauty  of  the  careless,  handsome  face  was  greatly 
marred,  and  the  loss  of  his  beauty  was  as  serious 
to  Brabazon  as  it  would  have  been  to  any  lovely 
woman.  But  he  did  not  shirk  examination  of  the 
darkened  features,  of  the  heavy  eyes  no  longer 
languid,  tender,  full  of  conscious  power.  He  passed 
his  hand  again  and  again  over  his  face,  and  he  spoke 
to  his  own  image  in  a  whisper. 

"Little  Val — I  might  make  you  pay  for  these 
marks,  ...  it  would  be  worth  a  dozen  making  him 
pay  for  them,  and  it  would  be  in  a  way  that,  if  he 
really  loves  you,  would  go  home  to  his  heart  with  a 
more  stinging  cut  than  his  cursed  whip  went  home  to 
my  flesh  I" 


178 


NOE  ALL  YOUE  TEAES 


XIX 

A   SCORCHING    summer's    night,   a   heavy 
mist  hanging  over  all  the  city,  a  narrow, 
badly  lighted,  gloomy  street,  with  small 
houses  of  the  lower  "lodging"  type   on 
one    side,   and   dingy,  cheap    flats   on    the    other — 
flats   where   all    the   windows  stood  wide  open,  and 
many  of  the  sills  were  decorated  with  jugs  or  basins 
put  out   to   cool  —  and  down  the  street   a  woman 
moving  languidly. 

From  behind  the  open  windows  there  came  to  her 
ears  various  sounds — of  music,  of  laughter,  of  the 
clatter  of  china,  the  jingle  of  glass,  the  hiss  of  some- 
thing frying  fiercely  in  a  pan.  It  was  all  familiar  to 
her,  as  familiar  as  the  occupants  of  the  building 
which  she  now  entered.  Artists,  musicians,  models, 
actresses,  dancers,  a  few  who  gave  instruction — 
all  unknown,  all  fighting  for  the.  bare  means  of 
livelihood. 

She  rather  dragged  herself  than  walked  up  the 
long  flights  of  stone  stairs  to  the  very  top  floor  ;  and 
there  she  paused  to  put  her  key  into  the  right-hand 
door. 

Shouts  of  welcome,  perhaps  a  little  impatient,  rose 
to  greet  her. 

"Back  at  last!  What  a  time  you've  been,  Val! 
Bogie  was  on  the  point  of  fetching  you  !  " 

Miss  Drummond  laughed  down  upon  the  speakers, 
179 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


much  as  a  mother  might  laugh  down  on  a  noisy 
crew  of  children.  There  were  three  of  them,  men — 
one  lying  idly  at  full  length  on  a  cane  sofa,  another 
correcting  manuscript,  the  third  at  the  piano. 

"  I  am  late,"  she  admitted  contritely,  "  Valdor  was 
hard  to  please  to-day,  or  I  was  stupid.  Then  that  bit 
of  storm  came  up  and  spoilt  the  light,  and  he  lost  his 
temper  a  little,  and — bah !  we  spent  half  the  sitting 
quarrelling." 

One  took  her  hat,  another  her  gloves,  and  the  man 
who  had  been  at  the  piano,  and  silent,  came  forward 
and  pressed  her  back  into  the  only  good  chair  the 
room  boasted.  Then  he  went  to  the  sideboard  and 
poured  out  a  glass  of  rich  red  wine  from  a  bottle  that 
was  light  enough  to  bring  a  soft  sigh  to  his  lips. 

"  Your  head  aches  ?  "  he  asked,  as  he  put  the  glass 
into  her  hand. 

M  Very  little — the  storm,  you  know,  and  the  heat. 
It  has  been  a  horrible  day.  How  you  spoil  me!" 
swallowing  the  wine  gratefully,  and  looking  over  the 
rim  of  the  glass  with  lovely  tired  eyes  into  his  kind, 
anxious  face. 

"  Don't !  *  he  pleaded,  pushing  her  chair  with  her  in 
it  to  the  farther  window,  and  seating  himself  on  the 
inner  ledge.  "  Don't  Spoil  you !  I  can't  stand 
much  more  of  this,  Val — I  can't  see  you  dying  by 
inches  before  our  very  eyes.  I  won't  If  only," 
moving  restlessly,  "  I  can  put  this  work  through,  if  I 
can  get  Crampton's  ear  for  an  hour,  and  make  him 
listen  to  it  himself — if  he'd  accept  it  even  for  a  distant 
date,  and  give  me  something  on  account,  I'd  bundle 
you  off  to  the  sea  in  double  quick  time." 

"  Old  goose ! "  Valerie  smiled,  but  the  great  tears 
were  in  her  eyes,  tears  of  gratitude  and  love,  and 
miserable  weakness.  "  You  persist  in  thinking  me  ill 

180 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


because  I  have  a  white  face — all  red-headed  people 
have ! — and  you  talk  as  though  I  were  unhappy." 

"And  you  are."  He  glanced  across  the  long  room, 
but  one  of  the  men  had  gone  out,  and  the  other  was 
deep  in  his  work.  "  Do  you  think  I  have  not  known 
it  since  the  first  hour  of  your  life  here,  since  the  first 
day  you  came  .  .  ." 

"  Four  months  ago." 

"  Four  months  of  torture,  of  life  that  has  offended 
you  at  every  turn;  four  months  of  hidden,  silent 
revolt" 

"  You  are  unjust  to  yourselves,"  she  began. 

"  I  am  not.  We  love  you,  but  we've  got  to  watch 
you  work.  We'd  screen  you  if  we  could,  but  we're  so 
hopelessly  powerless — such  poor  struggling  beggars. 
We  can't  shut  our  eyes  to  the  fact  that  the  best  part 
of  your  days  is  spent  half  clothed  in  draughts — half 
starved  .  .  .  God'!  don't  you  see  what  the  torture  of 
that  is  to  us — to  those  who  owe  almost  all  to  dear  old 
Drummy." 

"  And  can't  you  see  that  I  ought  to  be  more  at 
home  here  than  anywhere?  Was  not  all  my  youth, 
were  not  all  my  happiest  days  spent  in  such  a  life  as 
this?" 

"No;  they  were  spent  among  us;  but  the  hard  times 
you  were  too  young  to  understand,  you'd  your  father 
then,  and  during  the  years  that  alone  count  with  you 
you  have  known  every  luxury." 

He  spoke  truth,  and  Valerie  knew  it — during  the 
only  years  that  counted  with  her  she  had  known  only 
happiness  and  luxury.  He  spoke  the  truth — the  last 
four  months  had  been  months  of  torture,  of  slowly 
fading  health,  of  hidden,  silent  revolt.  But  she  would 
not  admit  it  to  this  man,  one  of  the  three  who  had 
stretched  out  welcoming,  helping  hands  to  her,  one  of 

181 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


the  three  who  had  been  her  father's  special  favourites, 
and  who,  when  their  turn  had  come,  hailed  it  proudly, 
and  threw  wide  their  door  to  her. 

"You  are  unjust  to  yourselves,"  she  repeated,  "and 
if  it  is  in  your  mind  that  you  owed  father  a  debt  of 
gratitude,  you  may  rest  assured  you  are  the  only 
three  who  have  tried  to  pay  it,  and  you  have  paid  it 
a  thousand  times  in  your  care  of  me." 

He  shook  his  head  dubiously.  "You  wouldn't — I 
suppose  you  couldn't  go  back  to — to — those  old 
women,  your  aunts  ? " 

Valerie  leant  back  in  the  chair  without  answering 
for  several  moments,  and  the  man  saw  that  her  face 
went,  if  possible,  whiter,  that  a  little  spasm  of  acute 
pain  passed  over  it,  and  that  her  breast  heaved 
unevenly  with  shortly-drawn  breaths. 

"  Forgive  me ! "  he  said  swiftly.  "  And  don't,  for 
heaven's  sake,  think  that  we  want  you  to  go.  I 
know  it  must  have  been  bad  enough  there,  they  ..." 

She  silenced  him  with  a  little  gesture,  which  he 
obeyed,  because  he  knew  that  she  was  distressed. 

"  The  fault  was  not  theirs,  and  you  must  not  blame 
them,"  she  said  presently.  "  Because  I  came  to  you 
immediately  after  leaving  them,  because  I  was 
unhappy  and  without  friends,  you  must  not  think  it 
was  their  fault.  You  know  I  left  them  to  take  a 
post  which  they  had  found  for  me,  and,  you  know," 
with  a  little  smile,  "that  I  never  took  it!  I  came 
here  instead.  I  went  away  to  a  new  home,  and 
perhaps  you  think  I  forgot  you  all,  but  it  was  not  so. 
I — I  cannot  explain  fully — after  all  it  does  not 
matter  much — but  when  I  went  to  the  home  they — 
father's  sisters — offered  me,  it  was  because  I  wanted 
to  start  anew  in  life.  I — I — had  good  reason.  I 
wanted  to  leave  my  old  world  behind — not  because 

182 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


I  did  not  love  it — and  go  out  into  a  fresh  one. 
And  it  was  a  failure.  Fate  was  not  good  to  me. 
I  tried  to  do  what  was  right,  and  I  meant  to  be  true, 
but  right  and  truth  cut  the  ground  from  under 
my  feet,  and  left  me  how  much  done,  how  wholly 
deserted  you  know.  And  I  came  to  you,  and,  as 
I  knew  you  would,  you  held  out  your  hands  to  me, 
without  a  thought  of  why  I  came,  without  a  question. 
Well,  you've  made  life  endurable,  you've  saved  me 
from  I  dare  not  think  what;  and  you've  let  me 
work  among  you  and  with  you,  and  helped  me  to 
laugh  with  you  at  adversity,  and  make  merry  over 
a  crust  as  we  did  in  the  old  days  when  luck  was 
down  for  father.  Don't  spoil  it  by  letting  me  think 
I  distress  you,  that  I  am  a  worry  to  you ;  and  don't 
ever  speak  again  of — of — sending  me  away.  I'll 
work  with  you  and  share  with  you,  but  I'll  not  see 
you  sacrifice  your  work  to  the  first  wily  bidder, 
just  that  you  may  get  the  means  of  providing  un- 
necessary luxuries  for  me.  Remember  that,  Bogie; 
if  you  do,  I  swear  that  I  don't  budge  from  here, 
and  what  you  bring  me  I'll  pitch  out  of  the  window." 

The  man  was  silent  He  had  watched  every 
varying  expression  of  her  face  while  she  had  been 
speaking,  he  had  listened  intently  to  every  inflection 
of  her  soft  voice.  Always  he  had  suspected  a  sorrow 
at  her  heart,  which  she  would  for  ever  hide  there, 
in  these  last  few  minutes  he  had  become  sure  of  it 
He  fell  to  wondering,  but  he  was  not  going  to  ruin 
her  confidence  in  him  by  letting  her  think  that  he 
wonde/ed. 

"  I  wish  you  were  stronger,"  he  said  lamely. 

"Poof!  I  tell  you  it  is  the  colour  of  my  skin 
that  makes  you  fancy  I  am  ill." 

Then  she  got  up  and  moved  lightly  about  the 
'83 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


room,  and  hummed  little  snatches  of  song,  as  though 
to  prove  to  him  that  her  heart  was  gay. 

"  Where  have  they  gone  ? "  she  asked  presently, 
nodding  to  the  empty  places  where  the  other  men 
had  been  sitting. 

"  I'm  not  quite  sure,  but  they  both  spoke  of  being 
late." 

"  And  you  ? " 

"  I'm  going  to  talk  over  this  business  with 
Crampton's  people,  and  let  them  hear  the  second  act," 
pointing  to  the  sheets  of  an  unfinished  score. 

"  And  don't  part  with  it  for  nothing,  Bogie.  The 
music  is  all  right — they  won't  match  it  easily,  but  in 
my  opinion  it  is  the  book  that  wants  polishing  up." 

"  I  believe  you're  right,  Val.  You  won't  sit  up  ? "  he 
added,  putting  the  score  together,  and  wrapping  it  in 
a  sheet  of  well  used  brown  paper. 

"  No,  indeed !  If  the  boys  even  hint  at  being  late, 
and  you  are  going  to  play  the  second  act,  I  know  it 
means  five  to-morrow  morning.  I  shall  hope  to  be 
thinking  of  breakfast  then." 

She  fetched  his  hat  out  of  the  little  hall,  passed  her 
handkerchief  round  the  band,  and  then  went  with  him 
to  the  door,  her  arm  linked  in  his.  Then  with  a 
hearty  wish  for  good  luck,  she  watched  him  down  the 
stairs. 

Her  room  was  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  landing, 
separate  from  the  flat;  but  she  did  not  go  into  it. 
She  went  back,  instead,  to  the  big  room  she  had  just 
left,  and  looked  down  with  a  little  smile  upon  the 
litter  that  the  men  had  left  behind.  Only  her  fingers 
might  gather  up  sheets  of  music  paper,  only  she 
might  arrange  the  scattered  bits  of  a  particular 
chapter,  only  her  hands  could  move  palette  and  brush 
without  damage.  And  now  she  set  to  work  upon  the 

184 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


rather  thankless  task  of  tidying  up,  moving  slowly  as 
one  heavy  with  fatigue,  yet  glad  of  occupation. 

All  that  "  The  Bogie  "  had  said  to  her  just  now  was 
fresh  in  her  mind,  all  the  truth,  and  hopelessness,  and 
the  misery  of  it.  Every  day,  every  hour  told  her 
more  surely  that  all  her  old  bravery  was  gone,  that 
there  was  no  life,  no  spirit  in  her  wherewith  to  fight 
the  present,  from  which  she  might  gain  courage  to 
look  into  the  future. 

The  never-ceasing  pain  at  her  heart,  the  ever- 
present  futile  regret,  the  memory  of  all  that  might  have 
been  hers,  and  all  that  she  had  lost,  had  told  pitilessly 
upon  her  during  these  long  summer  days.  She  knew 
that  her  health  was  failing,  and  she  hailed  its  failure 
gladly.  Of  what  use  to  her  was  life  ?  She  had  aided 
its  ruin  at  the  outset;  she  would  have  to  pay  the 
price  of  her  folly  until  her  last  hour  should  come. 

And  more  than  ever,  to-night,  she  wished  that  that 
hour  might  be  near. 

Her  task  over,  she  drew  near  to  the  open  window, 
lifting  her  face  to  the  haze  above  in  a  vain  endeavour 
to  catch  a  breath  of  air.  On  the  right  someone  was 
singing,  well,  but  with  the  monotonous  repetition  of 
the  same  four  bars,  in  hard  practice.  From  below 
there  came  to  her  offended  nostrils  the  smell  of 
sausages  briskly  frying.  In  a  room  opposite,  a  baby 
cried  incessantly  ;  and  down  in  the  street  a  dog,  that 
had  been  shut  out,  whined  at  intervals. 

Valerie  threw  out  her  arms  wildly,  as  though  she 
had  no  room  to  move,  no  space  in  which  to  breathe. 
Life  was  so  empty,  so  hideous,  so  sordid.  With 
deception  she  might  have  purchased  all  that  the  world 
would  envy  her,  she  might  have  bought  at  least  a 
few  months,  perhaps  a  year  or  two  of  joy — joy  for 
even  a  year  of  which  a  woman  might  have  given 

185 


NOE  ALL  YOUK  TEARS 


her  soul.  She  might  have  bought  it,  and  she 
have  given  it — with  deception.  With  truth,  with 
honesty  she  had  wrecked  her  own  life  and  another 
that  had  been  all  hers  to  make  or  mar.  Had  she 
marred  it?  Was  it  as  wasted,  as  useless  as  hers? 
Had  he  forgotten  ?  She  tortured  herself  with  the 
hope  that  he  had — with  the  thought  that  forgetfulness 
would  be  possible  to  him. 

A  flood  of  memory  swept  her  back  into  the  past ; 
weakness  and  misery  drove  the  tears  to  her  eyes  and 
down  her  white  cheeks.  All  the  nights  of  the  last 
four  months  had  been  more  than  half  spent  in  tears 
that  through  the  days  she  forced  back,  in  weeping 
that  left  her  weary  and  unrefreshed  when  morning 
came,  and  that  she  knew  was  powerless  to  wash  out 
the  one  hour  that  she  would  have  put  out  of  her  life, 
or  at  least  out  of  memory. 

And  while  her  head  rested  limply  upon  her 
outstretched  arms,  the  baby  opposite  still  cried  on, 
the  dog  below  whined  piteously,  the  woman 
practised  her  scales  with  irritating  persistence,  and 
though  the  sausages  had  ceased  to  frizzle,  the  smell 
of  their  fat  remained  on  the  heavy  air. 

Life  was  indeed  hideous  and  sordid.  Truth  was 
folly,  tears  were  unavailing.  Perhaps  she  wept  her 
heart  out  for  one  who  had  already  forgotten.  Only 
the  thought  of  death  held  any  hope ;  and  that  might 
be  so  far  off. 

A  slight  touch  upon  the  bell  roused  her.  It  would 
be  quite  a  stranger  who  pressed  it  The  inmates  of 
this  flat  had  their  keys,  and  their  special  calls  or 
whistles.  Tradesmen  did  not  come  here  even  by 
day,  certainly  not  at  night. 

The  bell  sounded  again,  a  little  more  impatiently; 
and  Valerie,  dashing  the  tears  from  her  eyes,  and 

z  86 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


remembering  comfortably  that  the  passage  was 
unlighted,  went  to  the  door. 

A  man  stood  there  whose  face  she  could  not  see. 

"  Miss  Drummond  ?  "  he  inquired. 

u  Yes ;  I  am  Miss  Drummond." 

A  little  cry  of  alarm  left  her  lips  as  he  stepped 
boldly  in,  closing  the  door  behind  him,  a  little  cry 
that  was  repeated  in  the  light  of  the  room  into 
which  she  had  swiftly  backed,  as  she  looked  up 
into  eyes  so  well  remembered,  that  smiled  down  into 
hers  now,  tenderly,  delightedly,  triumphantly. 

"  Val ! "  he  said  softly,  taking  her  nerveless, 
unresisting  hands  into  his.  "  For  half  a  year  have 
I  tried  in  vain  to  find  you — for  half  a  long, 
miserable  year,  and  pure  accident,  only  to-day,  gave 
me  a  clue  to  your  whereabouts.  Val,  have  I 
frightened  you,  or?  .  .  ." 

Then  Valerie  recovered  her  voice,  and  released 
her  hands,  and  stood  well  back  from  him,  leaning  a 
little  against  the  window  casement  for  support 

"  I  think  you  have  made  a  mistake,  Mr  Brabazon," 
she  said  coldly,  but  not  at  all  calmly. 

"And  I  know  that  I  have  done  nothing  of  the 
sort.  I  heard  your  name  to-day,  I  heard  that  you 
were  living  here,  I  came  to  find  you,  and  I  have 
found  you !  Be  very  sure  you  will  not  escape  me 
again — be  certain  that  no  command,  no  plea  of  yours 
will  drive  me  out  of  your  life  a  second  time !  Val, 
Val !  has  your  tender  heart  cherished  anger  against 
me  all  these  long  months?  I  won't  believe  it — I 
won't  believe  it  any  more  than  I  will  believe  that  so 
sweet  a  thing  as  our  love — is  dead." 

She  stood  before  him,  trembling,  too  weak  to 
move,  not  daring  to  trust  her  voice,  the  tears  still 
wet  on  her  lashes  and  face,  a  short  sob,  like  the  sob 


NOK  ALL  YOUK  TEAKS 


of  a  troubled  child,  catching  her  breath  every  now 
and  again. 

Brabazon  was  at  her  side  in  a  moment,  he  had 
drawn  her  from  the  window,  and  with  his  usual 
presence  of  mind  dropped  the  blind.  He  held  her 
in  an  embrace  from  which,  had  she  been  in  possession 
of  her  full  strength,  it  would  have  been  useless  to 
try  to  escape,  and  he  tilted  her  little  worn  face  up 
to  the  light,  while  he  bent  his  own  close  to  it,  and 
let  his  handsome,  weary  eyes  mark  carefully  every 
line  that  suffering  had  stamped  upon  it. 

"What  a  little  fool  you've  been,  Val — what  a 
little  fool !  When  with  a  word  you  could  have 
brought  me  to  your  side,  you  have  chosen  to  live 
in  this  den,"  casting  a  rapid,  contemptuous  glance 
round  the  room,  "  to  ruin  your  beauty,  and  pose  for 
Valdor  at  a  few  shillings  a  day !  Were  you  mad  ? 
Were  you  mad  ? — to  hide  from  me  when  you  knew 
that  I  asked  no  more  than  to  surround  you  with 
every  luxury,  to  fill  your  life  with  happiness  and 
love." 

He  brushed  his  lips  over  the  loosened  waves  of 
her  hair,  and  over  her  half-closed  eyes ;  and  then, 
with  a  long  sigh  of  satisfaction,  would  have  laid  them 
to  her  own.  With  an  enormous  effort  she  threw  her 
head  as  far  back  as  it  would  go,  with  her  free  hand 
she  covered  her  mouth ;  but  Brabazon  only  laughed, 
and  took  away  the  weak  little  fingers  and  held  them 
round  his  throat,  and  kissed  her  lips  at  will.  "  The 
one  moment  worth  living,"  he  said,  when  he  lifted 
his  head  at  last,  "  since  we  parted." 

But  he  spoke  to  deaf  ears ;  he  realised  that  her 
frail  body  had  grown  heavy  in  his  hold,  he  saw  that 
her  eyes  were  closed,  and  knew  that  she  had  lost 
consciousness. 

1 88 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  The  devil !  "  he  muttered  under  his  breath  ;  and 
then,  with  something  like  horror,  "she  does  not 
weigh  more  than  a  kitten." 

He  put  her  down  on  the  cane  sofa,  and  pulled  an 
old  pillow  under  her  head.  He  knew  she  did  not 
live  here  alone,  but  from  the  moment  of  his  entrance 
he  had  not  given  a  thought  to  whom  he  might  meet 
here.  He  concluded  that  he  and  she  were,  for  the 
moment  at  all  events,  sole  occupants  of  this  particular 
flat ;  and  his  eyes  left  her  still  form  to  search  round 
the  room  for  cupboard  or  table  where  he  might  find 
brandy.  He  searched  in  vain.  Then  he  stepped 
out  into  the  passage  and  struck  a  match  from  his 
pocket  There  were  three  doors  opposite,  and  he 
opened  them  one  after  another.  They  were  doors 
to  bedrooms,  all  unmistakably  the  bedrooms  of  men. 
At  the  end  of  the  passage  there  was  a  kitchen,  which 
boasted  little  furniture,  a  sleepy  cat,  and  a  small 
larder,  quite  empty. 

Brabazon  struck  some  more  matches  and  swore 
under  his  breath.  He  went  back  to  the  sitting-room 
and  found  Valerie  just  as  he  had  left  her;  and  he  fell 
to  gently  chafing  her  cold  hands.  He  would  not  leave 
her,  even  in  search  of  restoratives;  the  temptation 
came  to  him  to  take  her  from  here  now,  when  it 
would  be  without  her  knowledge,  when  she  would  be 
powerless  to  resist  him,  but  difficulties  presented  them- 
selves to  his  mind  that  he  saw  no  way  of  overcoming. 
To  send  someone  from  below  for  a  cab,  and  then  to 
walk  down  five  flights  of  stairs  with  an  unconscious 
woman  in  his  arms,  would  probably  cause  as  great 
a  sensation  as  a  fire.  It  was  not  to  be  thought  of, 
almost  resistless  as  was  the  temptation. 

He  was  beginning  to  grow  impatient  when  Valeric 
stirred. 

tit 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  Better,  little  girl  ? "  he  asked  cheerfully,  and  with 
something  in  his  voice  that,  in  spite  of  herself,  she 
found  as  almost  comforting.  She  struggled  into  a 
sitting  posture. 

"  I — I — am  all  right,  please  go." 

He  pressed  her  gently  back  as  she  would  have 
risen,  and  stood  looking  down  at  her. 

"  Look  here,  Val,  I  don't  want  to  upset  or  worry 
you — I  swear  I  don't  I've  never  rested  till  I  found 
you,  and  you  can't  expect  me  to  be  calmly  ordered  out 
of  your  presence  now  I  have  done  so.  But  I  wouldn't 
make  you  unhappy  for  the  world — I  wouldn't  do 
anything  you  didn't  wish.  I — you  were  angry  with 
me  just  now,  and  I  ought  to  have  remembered  that 
you  were  not  likely  to  forgive  me  at  once.  But  I 
swear,  if  you  will  just  listen  to  me  quietly,  I  won't 
say  another  word  to  offend.  I  won't  ask  for  one 
kind  word  till  you  give  me  leave.  I  love  you  better 
to-day  than  I  ever  loved  you,  and  even  though  you 
care  no  longer  for  me,  you'll  be  just  enough  to 
admit,  giving  one  glance  back  into  the  past,  that  I've 
the  right  to  stand  your  friend.  No,  listen  a  moment 
more.  There  are  any  amount  of  things  I  want  to 
say  to  you,  that  you  would  not  give  me  a  chance  to 
say  when  we  parted,  many  things  that  you  must 
hear.  But  for  heaven's  sake  let  us  get  out  of  this. 
The  place  is  simply  stifling— to  think  of  you  in  it ! 
No  wonder  you're  white  as  a  lily  and  thin  as  its 
stalk.  Can't  you  put  on  a  hat  and  come  out  for  a 
little  while — anywhere  that  isn't  this  place — it  is  not 
ten  yet." 

She  put  her  hand  up  to  bid  him  be  silent 

"I  don't  doubt,  in  fact  I  believe  that  you  mean 
well — now,"  she  said,  getting  to  her  feet  and  leaning 
against  the  table,  "but  you  don't  understand.  I — 

190 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


want  nothing — no  friends  other  than  those  here.  I 
left  your  world  and  mine  long  ago,  and  all  I  ask  now 
is  to  be  forgotten  by  it — and  you." 

"  That  is  sheer  nonsense,  Val.  You  did  not  leave 
it — I  drove  you  from  it.  I've  had  six  months  of 
misery  and  anxiety  about  you,  and  you  owe  it  to  me 
to  let  me  make  what  little  amends  I  can  now.  Be 
reasonable  dear,  I  tell  you — I  swear  to  you  that  I  ask 
nothing  but  to  be  your  friend,  to  make  your  life  a 
little  happier,  a  little  easier.  Don't  try  to  tell  me 
you  are  content,  because  I  won't  believe  it  Don't 
you  suppose  I  can  see  that  you  are  so  ill  you  can 
hardly  stand  ?  Don't  you  suppose  I  know  what  you 
must  have  gone  through  to  come  down  to  living  in 
this  place  and  being  Valdor's  model !  Good  God ! 
if  you  were  to  die  to-morrow  I  should  feel  like  your 
murderer." 

She  shook  her  head,  not  angrily  but  sadly. 

"  You  don't  understand,"  she  said  again.  "  If  I  died 
I  think  my  death  would  be  at  your  door;  whatever  ill 
had  befallen  me  you  would  be  to  blame.  Then,  six 
months  ago,  I  thought  you  killed  life,  and  love,  and 
hope,  and  belief  in  me.  But  you  did  not — I  wish  you 
had — you  only  drove  me  to  seek  another  world — and 
there  I  learnt  that  what  I  thought  was  dead  in  me 
lived  still,  but  that  because  of  you,  love  and  happi- 
ness must  pass  me  for  ever  on  the  other  side." 

"  Ah ! "  the  single  word  left  Brabazon's  lips  with 
some  tone  in  it  that  told  her  how  fully  he  compre- 
hended all  her  words  conveyed,  and  he  turned  his 
eyes  from  hers  a  moment,  lest  she  should  read  too 
much  in  them.  And  presently  he  moved  nearer,  and 
stood  before  her  very  humbly.  "  Perhaps,  after  all,  I 
am  more  faithful  than  the  rest,"  he  said.  "At  least 
my  love  is  strong  enough  to  make  me  regret  the 

191 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


wrong  I  did  you,  to  fill  me  with  the  desire  to  atone,  if 
atonement  be  possible.  At  least  it  had  been  strong 
enough  to  keep  me  at  your  side,  not  so  weakly  a 
thing  that  I  could  be  driven  from  you  by  a  confession 
that  you  and  you  alone  could  have  made.  It  is  a 
poor  love  that  holds  no  pardon." 

She  shuddered.  It  was  her  own  thought — a 
thought  continually  forced  aside — put  into  words,  and 
words  which  somehow  lessened  her  bitter  resentment 
against  the  speaker,  and  hardened  her  heart  ever  so 
little  against  the  man  who  had  forsaken  her. 

"Val,"  he  went  on  gently,  quick  to  perceive  his 
advantage,  slight  though  it  might  be,  "  I  only  ask  you 
to  let  me  be  your  friend — not  for  my  sake  but  for 
your  own,  I  ask  you  to  let  me  make  the  way  a  little 
easier  if  I  can  ..." 

"  No  ;  I  don't  know  how  you  found  me  here,  but  I 
am  sorry  that  you  did." 

"I  want  to  tell  you  about  that — about  many 
things,"  he  interrupted  eagerly.  "  Won't  you  get 
your  hat  now  and  come  out?  Good  heavens! 
You  fainted  just  now,  and  there  was  nothing  in 
this  wretched  hole  that  I  could  get  you.  Will  you 
come  away  from  it  to-morrow,  then  ?  Let  me  get 
you  rooms  at  a  hotel.  I  swear  I  won't  set  foot  in 
them  unless  you  bid  me.  Let  me  know,  at  least, 
that  you  are  well  looked  after,  that  .  .  ." 

"  Don't  say  any  more.  You  mean  well.  I  tell  you 
I  believe  that,  but  it  is  all  useless.  I  do  not  wish  to 
leave  here.  I  wish  only  that  you  will  leave  me  now, 
and  that  you  will  forget  you  have  found  me." 

"  And  I  tell  you  I  can't  do  that.     I  won't." 

She  made  a  little  gesture  that  expressed  utter 
weariness,  utter  hopelessness. 

"  Well,  if  you  will  not  go,  I  shall,"  she  said.  "  1 
193 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


leave  you  in  possession  of  this  room.  When  the 
boys  return  you  can  explain  your  presence  here." 

And  before  he  knew  what  she  was  going  to  do, 
she  had  passed  swiftly  through  the  passage  and  out 
on  to  the  outer  landing.  But,  quick  as  she  was,  he 
was  quicker,  and  he  overtook  her  as  she  was  about 
to  pass  through  a  doorway  on  the  other  side. 

"  Val,  listen — I'll  go — now,  this  moment ;  but 
promise  you  will  let  me  see  you  to-morrow." 

"No." 

"  What  is  this  place  ? "  thinking  it  better  to  argue 
no  further,  and  looking  at  the  half-open  door. 

"  These  are  my  own  rooms.     Good-night." 

"  Well,  let  me  come  and  see  you  here  to-morrow  . . ." 

"  No.     Good-bye." 

And  she  slipped  through  the  narrow  opening, 
and  closed  the  door,  not  roughly,  but  decidedly,  in 
his  face, 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


XX 

THREE     days    passed     without     Brabazon 
following   up   his   visit    by   another,    three 
days    through    which    Valerie    lived    with 
ears   strained  for  the   sound  of  a   strange 
footfall  on  the  stone  landing  outside,  with  eyes  con- 
tinually searching  the  narrow  pavement  immediately 
below  her  own  windows. 

She  knew  well  enough  that  Brabazon  was  not  the 
man  to  accept  his  dismissal  easily.  She  did  not 
doubt  his  statement  that  he  had  spent  six  months 
in  an  endeavour  to  find  her.  His  efforts  in  that 
direction  might  have  been  intermittent,  the  search 
might  have  lost  its  interest  after  a  time;  but  there 
was  sufficient  obstinacy,  determination,  persistence 
underlying  his  calm  indolence  to  render  him  patient, 
even  in  long  waiting,  for  anything  upon  which  he 
set  his  heart  and  mind. 

He  had  found  her, — whether  by  accident  or  through 
careful  search  she  neither  knew  nor  cared, — and,  it 
was  not  likely  that  he  would  be  willing  to  pass  out 
of  her  life  once  more,  simply  because  she  had  told 
him  to  go,  and  had  shut  her  door  in  his  face.  He 
had  found  her,  and  he  had  not  sought  her  again 
since  that  night,  three  nights  ago,  nor  sent  her  a 
written  word. 

And  another  day  and  still  another  went  by,  till  a 
week  had  gone,  but  Valerie  listened  in  vain.  She 
searched  the  street  with  troubled  eyes,  only  to  see 

*94 


NOH  ALL  YOUR  TEAES 


her  usual  neighbours  coming  and  going,  and  rarely 
a  stranger  enter  it  from  one  direction  or  the  other. 

All  peace  there  might  have  been  in  her  life  seemed 
to  have  fled  when  once  more  she  heard  Brabazon's 
voice,  when  again  she  had  felt  the  touch  of  his  hands 
and  his  lips,  when,  after  all  these  days,  she  and  he 
met,  and  she  had  read  triumph  and  satisfaction  and 
passion,  and  something  else  that  she  could  not  under- 
stand, in  the  eyes  that  could  so  well  speak  tender 
meaning  straight  to  a  woman's  heart.  All  peace 
and  rest  had  fled,  just  when  she  was  beginning  to 
settle  down  wearily,  apathetically,  to  the  monotony 
and  the  poverty  and  the  dreariness  of  the  life  that 
she  had  deliberately  chosen. 

Her  "  boys  "  looked  at  her  under  their  eyelids  in 
ever-increasing  fear ;  they  said  in  their  own  hearts 
what  they  had  not  the  courage  to  put  into  words, — 
even  to  each  other.  They  said  that  she  was  dying  by 
inches,  and  making  a  brave  fight  to  hide  the  fact  from 
them  to  the  very  last;  and  they  thrust  their  hands 
into  their  empty  pockets,  and  let  their  eyes  rest  on 
the  work  that  swallowed  up  the  colourless  days,  the 
endless  nights,  the  work  that  was  always  returned 
after  long  delay  that  roused  false  hope,  returned  with 
meaningless  "Regrets,"  or  tossed  aside  without  a 
glance,  the  work  on  which  all  their  youth  was  spent, 
and  knew  with  only  the  bitterness  that  such 
knowledge  can  hold,  that  they  were  powerless  even 
to  try  to  save  her. 

Valerie  was  alone  one  evening  when  the  "Bogie  " 
returned  unexpectedly  early.  She  heard  him  racing 
up  the  stone  stairs  three  at  a  time,  she  heard  his 
fingers  fumble  nervously  with  the  latch  of  the  door, 
she  caught  the  sound  of  his  quickly-drawn  breaths 
as  he  entered  the  little  passage ;  and  when  he  came 


NOR  ALL  YOUE  TEAKS 


into  the  room,  she  saw  that  it  was  with  springing  step, 
with  eyes  alight,  with  trembling  lips  that  he  strove 
hard,  shamefacedly,  to  steady.  His  pockets  were 
bulging  with  parcels,  under  his  arm  was  a  neatly 
packed  box,  in  his  hands  flowers — roses,  carnations, 
lilies,  mignonette.  He  threw  them  into  her  lap,  and 
silenced  her  quickly  before  she  could  utter  a  protest. 

"  Don't  scold,  Val— Ford  bought  that  little  duet  I 
did  for  him  and  his  wife,  and,  what  is  more  remarkable, 
paid  for  it ! "  he  said,  in  simple  explanation. 

"  Bogie !  That  means  a  couple  of  pounds  at  the 
utmost,  and  you  have  ..." 

"Don't  be  insulting,  Miss  Drummond !  It  meant 
three  pounds  ten,  and  I've  been  reckless  with  it,  I 
admit!  But  that's  not  all  the  news — I  could  afford 
to  be  reckless.  Little  one,  as  sure  as  I'm  a  sinner  I 
believe  the  luck's  turned ! "  With  a  boyish  laugh  he 
seated  himself  on  the  window  sill  and  took  one  of  her 
little  hands  into  his,  while  he  smoothed  the  pallid 
back  of  it  with  tender  fingers.  "  I'll  tell  you  all  about 
it — it  won't  keep.  I  met  Ford  in  Valdor's  studio  to- 
day, when  I  dropped  in  to  tell  him  you  were  not  well 
enough  to  turn  up." 

"He was  annoyed  ? "  uneasily. 

"No,  only  sorry.  Well,  I  met  Ford  there;  he 
was  at  his  wits'  ends  for  a  good  duet  for  this  piece 
they're  taking  on  tour.  I  humbly  suggested  one 
of  mine — one  that  he'd  snubbed  me  about.  I  played 
it,  put  something  into  it  that  he  and  she  will  never 
find  in  the  copy;  and,  in  short,  made  a  hit.  He 
took  it  there  and  then,  and  paid.  I  orchestrate  it ; 
he  finds  the  band  parts.  You  know  what  Valdor 
is  when  once  he  gets  one  at  the  piano,  he  kept  me 
there  two  hours,  and  at  last  I  found  that  Ford  had 
disappeared,  and  some  other  chap  had  come  in  and 

196 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


had  been  listening  all  the  time.  He  was  a  very 
decent  sort  of  chap,  too,  and  evidently  a  music  lover. 
He  seemed  particularly  interested  after  he  had  got 
at  my  name  and  address,  and  intimated  that  he 
was  on  the  look-out  for  the  music  for  a  good  musical 
comedy.  Apparently  he  has  the  book  cut  and  dried. 
Valdor  encouraged  him  to  give  me  the  commission, 
but  he  did  not  seem  to  want  much  encouragement. 
He  said  there  could  not  be  much  delay  about  it ; 
suggested  possible  terms  that  nearly  stood  my  hair 
on  end,  and  made  an  appointment  to  come  up  here 
to-night  and  hear  some  of  my  unrecognised  work. 
Too  good  an  opportunity  to  miss,  eh,  Val?  So 
I  asked  him  to  come  along  about  eight,  but  he'd  an 
engagement,  and  in  the  end  we  made  it  any  time 
after  ten.  I  knew  you'd  not  mind,  little  woman  ..." 

"  Mind !  Oh,  Bogie,  if  you  only  knew  how  glad 
I  am !  You're  right,  luck  is  changing,  perhaps. 
But  I  always  said  your  music  had  only  to  be  heard." 

Bogie  smiled.  He  took  the  flowers  from  her  and 
put  them  into  two  vases — one  close  to  her  elbow, 
and  then  he  set  himself  to  open  the  various  packages. 

"A  bottle  or  two  of  whisky  and  a  few  cigars, 
you  know,"  he  said,  half  apologetically.  "  Must  not 
let  the  fellow  into  the  secret  of  our  immediate 
impecuniosity — lowers  prices  at  once.  '  To  him  that 
hath,  etc.*  And  a  little  cold  fodder  in  case  we  feel 
the  pangs  of  hunger  before  midnight  Meantime 
there  are  a  few  things  in  this  parcel  which  you  are 
to  consume  by  degrees  yourself." 

He  dropped  it  into  her  lap  as  he  spoke,  and  went 
out  of  the  room,  perhaps  to  avoid  thanks,  perhaps 
because  he  could  not  bear  to  see  the  tears  filling 
her  sweet  eyes. 

Valerie  sighed.  She  stared  out  on  to  the  hot  roofs 
197 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


opposite,  but  there  was  a  little  touch  of  hope  in 
the  smile  that  played  about  her  mouth.  If  luck 
had  turned !  If,  after  all  the  long  weary  waiting, 
the  Bogie's  talent  was  to  be  recognised  at  last,  if 
he  was  on  the  fair  road  to  make  his  name  and  his 
fortune ! 

The  long  sultry  evening  crept  slowly  away. 
Valerie  made  tea  very  late,  and  she  and  the  Bogie 
sat  chatting  over  it  while  she  helped  him  gladly  to 
build  castles  in  the  air.  They  were  alone  here 
to-night,  and  they  did  not  trouble  about  the  lights. 

The  sun  sank  away  below  the  horizon,  the  little 
crescent  of  the  moon  rose  clear  in  an  opal  sky. 
Over  the  opposite  house-tops  Valerie  watched  it, 
while  the  darkness  gradually  fell ; — and  against  her 
will  her  memory  went  back,  as  on  such  a  night  as 
this  it  would  fight  its  way  back  out  of  her  control, 
to  the  cliff  path  above  her  aunts'  house,  to  the  stretch 
of  sea  before  her,  as  it  had  been  then,  to  the  sombre 
land  behind,  that  had  ever  seemed  like  a  shadow 
creeping  up  to  envelop  her. 

And  over  the  sound  of  the  melancholy  wash  of 
the  waves,  above  the  high  wind,  there  rose  the  sound 
of  Wingate's  voice,  not  as  she  had  heard  it  last,  harsh 
with  suffering,  bitter  with  disappointment,  but  as  it 
.  came  to  her  so  often  in  her  dreams,  soft  with  tender- 
ness that  she  alone  ever  heard  it,  lingering  like  a 
caress  on  the  utterance  of  her  name. 

She  turned  her  white  face  to  the  shadow,  and 
clenched  her  hands  in  the  folds  of  her  dress  till  the 
nails  cut  through  it  and  into  her  palms ;  and  Bogie, 
thinking  she  slept,  crept  softly  about  the  room, 
preparing  it  for  the  reception  of  his  visitor  to-night 

But  in  her  heart  Valerie  was  praying  wildly,  sense- 
lessly, "  Oh,  God,  give  me  one  hour,  one  day  of  his 

198 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


love,  of  the  happiness  that  was  mine  then,  and  let 
me  die ! " 

The  clock  was  striking  nine  when  there  was  a 
knock  at  the  hall  door.  The  Bogie  hurried  out  to 
open  it,  and  Valerie  rose  from  her  reclining  position 
in  the  biggest  chair  in  the  room.  There  was  a  touch 
of  excitement  upon  her ;  she  felt  that  this  might  be 
the  turning-point  in  the  life  of  one  of  her  boys,  and 
it  was  consequently  a  moment  of  no  mean  importance. 

She  heard  the  Bogie's  cheery  greeting,  she  did  not 
catch  any  reply.  Bogie  was  apologising  for  the 
darkness,  and  explaining  that  the  heat  made  gas 
almost  intolerable;  and  while  he  explained,  he 
brought  the  visitor  straight  towards  Valerie's  chair. 

"Val,  dear,  this  is  Mr  Brabazon,"  he  said,  "of 
\vhom  I  have  been  telling  you.  Mr  Cuthbert 
Brabazon — Miss  Drummond.  If  you  did  not  know 
John  Drummond  the  artist  personally,"  he  added, 
"you  must  have  known  him  by  reputation.  This 
lady  is  his  daughter." 

Valerie  blessed  the  darkness.  She  knew  that  if 
she  looked  white  in  the  faint  light  of  the  moon,  it 
would  not  be  surprising.  The  scantily  furnished 
room,  the  figures  of  the  men  danced  a  jig  before 
her  eyes ;  everything  was  going  round,  and  she  was 
clinging  with  her  left  hand  to  the  back  of  her  chair. 
Her  right  one  Brabazon  had  taken,  and  was  holding 
closely,  fondly,  in  a  clasp  from  which  she  was 
powerless  to  extricate  it 

u  This  is  indeed  an  unexpected  pleasure,"  he  said, 
with  evident  delight  "  Long  ago,  perhaps  so  long 
that  she  will  not  remember,  I  had  the  honour  of 
meeting  Miss  Drummond.  Mr  Dunbar,"  turning  to 
address  the  Bogie  with  a  little  laugh,  "if  you  had 
told  me  that,  beside  your  delightful  music,  the 

199 


NOK  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 


renewal  of  my  acquaintance  with  Miss  Drummond 
awaited  me,  be  very  sure  I  should  have  been  here 
two  hours  sooner !  Ah,  please  do  not  light  the  gas 
on  my  account  If  I  may  have  a  choice,  I  like  this 
light  so  much  more  than  a  glare,  in  so  much  heat, 
anyhow.  And  I'll  wager  you  want  little  light  for 
your  work  at  the  piano." 

"Not  much,"  agreed  Bogie;  but  he  was  straining 
his  eyes  to  see  Valerie,  who  still  stood  with  her  hand 
in  Brabazon's,  and  whose  lips  refused  to  form  a 
syllable. 

"You  had  forgotten  me,"  declared  Brabazon, 
releasing  her  fingers,  and  waiting  till  she  sank  into 
her  chair  to  be  seated  himself  close  by  her. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  had,"  she  forced  herself  to  reply ; 
and  the  Bogie  experienced  a  momentary  feeling  of 
keen  disappointment  He  had  counted  so  upon 
Valerie.  She  was  always  so  sweet  and  natural  and 
kindly  to  anyone  of  their  friends,  no  matter  whom 
they  might  bring  up  to  this  room.  She  made  all 
welcome ;  and  now  to  this  one  man,  whose  good 
opinion  was  worth  winning,  who  might  be  of  the 
greatest  help,  who  bid  fair  to  be  a  friend  indeed  as 
in  need,  she  was  icily  cold.  She  had  even  known 
him,  but  the  Bogie  could  not  blame  her  for  not 
telling  him  so  when  he  remembered  that  he  had  not 
mentioned  Brabazon's  name.  To  his  great  relief 
it  was  plain  that  Brabazon  was  not  in  the  least 
offended,  not  in  the  least  snubbed  by  her  chilly 
reply.  He  drew  his  chair  a  little  closer,  and  at 
once  started  a  rather  one-sided  conversation  with 
her.  And  what  Bogie  did  not  know,  but  Valerie 
did,  was  that  the  visitor  was  giving  her  time  to 
fully  recover  herself.  What  the  Bogie  did  not  see, 
and  Valerie  did,  was  that  a  little  smile  of  eyes  and 

200 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


mouth,  a  self-satisfied  smile,  was  lighting  up  the 
visitor's  handsome  features,  and  the  sound  of 
merriment  making  itself  pleasantly  heard  through 
his  very  attractive  voice. 

"And  now  for  the  music,  Mr  Dunbar,"  he  said. 
"May  I  ask  for  that  number  which  so  delighted 
Valdor  to-day?  That  for  the  introduction;  and 
afterwards  all  three  acts  of  this  new  work  which  I 
very  much  look  forward  to  having  a  share  in." 

Bogie  went  to  the  piano  at  once.  He  tried  to 
meet  Valerie's  eyes  first,  but  failed  utterly;  and 
then  he  lighted  the  small  piano  lamp,  and  com- 
menced the  opening  bars  of  the  little  graceful  air 
that  had  pleased  Valdor  and  Brabazon  to-day. 

The  room  was  a  large  one ;  it  took  up  more  than 
half  the  little  flat,  indeed,  and  when  once  the  Bogie 
was  safely  at  the  piano,  which  stood  in  the  corner 
farthest  from  Valerie  and  the  visitor,  when  once  his 
fingers  were  running  with  their  firm,  sure  touch  over 
the  keys,  Brabazon  leant  forward,  and  under  cover  of 
the  semi-darkness,  closed  gentle  fingers  upon  her 
reluctant  arm,  under  sway  of  the  tender  melody, 
leant  nearer  to  whisper  in  her  ear. 

"  Did  you  think  I  had  forgotten  ?  Did  you  fancy 
that  I  had  taken  your  last  words  to  me  in  the  spirit 
you  intended  ?  Why,  I  have  been  laying  little  plans 
all  through  this  week  which  have  led  to  my  presence 
here  to-night  You  wonder  at  it?  You  would  not 
let  me  tell  you  a  week  ago,  and  I  cannot  very  well 
now.  Val,  say  where  you  will  meet  me  to-morrow  ? 
Do.  If  you  don't,  I  shall  come  here  every  day 
and  every  night  till  you  do.  Dunbar  and  I  are 
tremendous  friends  already.  I  can  be  of  any  amount 
of  use  to  him,  and  he  will  not  be  likely  to  keep  me 
out  of  these  rooms — so  .  .  ." 

301 


NOB,  ALL  YOUE  TEAES 


"  Be  quiet,"  she  whispered  back. 

"  Not  till  you  have  promised  to  meet  me  some- . 
where  to-morrow." 

She  leant  farther  back  in  the  chair,  keeping  her 
arm  out  of  his  reach  now,  and  her  eyes  on  the 
Bogie's  back.  Argument  was  impossible;  she  felt 
sure  that  Brabazon  intended  to  make  refusal  almost 
as  impossible.  She  was  trapped,  cornered,  powerless 
to  resist  him  unless  she  said  or  did  something  which 
might  rouse  suspicion  in  young  Dunbar's  mind. 
Moreover,  it  came  to  her  that  it  would  be  as  well 
to  get  this  interview  which  Brabazon  insisted  upon 
over,  once  and  for  ever ;  and,  beyond  that,  it  might 
be  well  for  her  to  know  how  and  where  he  had 
received  information  concerning  her  whereabouts. 

"  Very  well,  to-morrow,"  she  said,  still  not  looking 
at  him. 

"  Good  little  girl  I     Where— what  time  ?  " 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  with  maddening 
indifference,  which  he  chose  to  turn  instantly  to  his 
own  account 

"  I  shall  send  the  night  brougham — no,  not  here 
— to  the  corner  of  Oakley  Street,  the  Embankment 
end,  at  six  o'clock.  You  can  manage  that  little 
walk,  and  the  heat  of  the  day  will  have  died  down 
by  that  time." 

Then,  without  giving  her  a  moment  in  which  to 
reply,  he  got  up  abruptly  and  went  over  to  the 
piano. 

As  in  a  dream  she  heard  his  voice  mingling  with 
the  Bogie's,  and  little  snatches  of  softly-played 
music ;  as  though  she  looked  at  them  through  the 
wrong  end  of  a  pair  of  opera-glasses,  the  men 
appeared  to  her  eyes  far,  far  off;  as  if  held  down 
by  iron  hands,  she  lay  very  still  in  her  chair, 

202 


NOR  ALL  YOUK  TEAKS 


incapable  of  action  of  any  sort.  She  seemed  to 
see  through  all  Brabazon's  plans ;  she  knew  now 
what  she  had  never  guessed,  that  he  was  a  friend 
of  Valdor's ;  she  understood  that  he  would  be  a 
friend  of  the  Bogie's  before  long,  that  he  would 
contrive  to  weave  part  of  his  life  in  with  the  life 
she  led  with  the  boys  here,  that  she  could  not  shun 
him  without  perhaps  injuring  at  least  the  Bogie's 
prospects.  She  knew  that  she  had  but  to  breathe 
one  word  in  young  Dunbar's  ear,  and  he  would  tear 
up  the  score  and  fling  it  in  Brabazon's  face,  before 
he  would  enter  into  any  business  transaction  with 
him ;  she  knew  she  had  but  to  let  her  eyes  speak, 
and  the  door  of  this,  their  poor  little  home,  would  be 
slammed  in  Brabazon's  face  for  ever,  no  matter  at 
what  cost.  And  she  knew  that  with  only  that  end 
in  view  she  must  ever  keep  silence. 

After  all,  what  was  her  life  compared  to  theirs — 
the  young,  opening  lives  of  her  boys?  Hers  was 
ruined,  done  with  long  ago — theirs  was  but  just 
beginning.  And  it  was  Brabazon  who  would  be 
the  means  of  starting  young  D unbar  on  the  road 
to  fame.  Truly,  Fate  had  a  grudge  against  her ; 
truly,  tortures  long  drawn  out  were  to  be  her  portion 
through  life. 

And  looking  at  the  man  leaning  against  the  top 
of  the  piano,  looking  back  into  the  past,  she  told 
herself,  as  she  had  told  him  once,  that  most  of  the 
blame  lay  at  her  own  door. 

It  was  very  late  before  Brabazon  took  his  leave ; 
and  but  that  he  kept  almost  strictly  to  business,  that 
he  scarcely  allowed  Dunbar  to  leave  the  piano,  and 
that  he  talked  a  good  deal  himself,  Valerie's  silence 
would  have  been  remarkable. 

When  the  door  had  closed  behind  him,  and 
203 


NOB  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


Dunbar  had  called  out  a  last  good-night,  the  boy 
came  back  into  the  room,  a  frown  in  his  eyes,  a 
ring  of  real  perplexity  in  his  voice  as  he  spoke  to 
Valerie. 

"It  amazes  me,"  he  declared,  bringing  his  hand 
down  fiercely  on  the  table.  "  How  often  have  I 
brought  up  here  a  poor  little  wretch  that  I  may  have 
found  in  an  attic  starving,  and  you  have  been 
sweetness  and  hospitality  and  kindness  itself  to  him  ; 
and  to-night  I  bring  a  man  who  is  not  only  prepared 
to  give  me  work  and  pay  handsomely  for  it,  but  one 
who  will  be  likely  to  fling  me  up  the  ladder  of  fame 
two  rungs  at  a  time  if  the  fancy  but  take  him. 
Heaven  knows  why  or  what  his  caprice — but  it  is 
there.  And  you  turn  from  him  as  if  he  were  the 
scum  of  the  earth,  you  hold  aloof,  you  are  barely 
civil.  Why  ?  In  God's  name,  why?  VaL" 

She  kept  silence  for  a  moment,  then  she  took  a 
few  steps  which  brought  her  close  to  him. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  she  said.  "  I  was  dull,  I  own,  but 
I  do  not  think  you  need  fear  it  making  any  difference, 
Bogie,  I — am  not  very  well  ..." 

With  a  quick  movement  Dunbar  seized  one  of  the 
candles  and  held  it  above  her  head ;  the  next 
moment  he  had  thrown  both  his  arms  round  her. 

"Val,  forgive  me — what  a  brute— what  an  utter 
selfish  brute  I  am !  Val  ..." 

She  forced  a  laugh,  she  took  his  anxious,  distressed 
young  face  between  both  her  cold  little  hands. 

"Don't  call  yourself  names.  I  shall  be  all  right 
to-morrow.  And  go  to  bed,  Bogie,  and  dream  that 
you  are  climbing  that  ladder  and  fast  reaching  the 
top!" 

"You  will  have  to  see  a  doctor  now,  Val/'  he 
insisted 

904 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  What !  A  doctor  ?  Not  I !  I  prefer  to  see  you 
in  the  conductor's  chair,  and  to  hear  the  house  yelling 
your  name  from  pit  to  gallery." 

When  he  was  alone,  Dunbar  threw  himself  down 
in  Valerie's  chair.  He  thought  over  the  day's  work 
with  hope  that  he  hardly  dared  to  encourage,  with 
wonder  that  drove  sleep  away,  with  excitement  that 
set  the  blood  tingling  in  his  veins. 

Luck  had  changed,  fortune  had  come  bis  way, 
perhaps,  at  last 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


XXI 

VALERIE    had    her    home   almost    entirely 
to    herself    during    the    next    day.       Her 
usual  companions  had  business  which  kept 
them    away    from    mid    day,    and    young 
Dunbar's  time  was  to  be  fully  occupied  throughout 
the  evening. 

Valerie  smiled  to  herself.  She  thought  how  like 
Brabazon  it  was  to  provide  against  any  chance  of  his 
own  plans  meeting  with  interference.  To  the  best 
of  his  ability  he  had  cleared  the  way  for  her,  so  that 
she  might  be  able  to  leave  her  home  and  keep  her 
appointment  with  him  without  comment  and  without 
explanation. 

When  six  was  striking  she  drew  up  the  blinds,  left 
a  note  on  the  table  in  case  one  of  the  boys  should 
arrive  home  before  her,  and  then,  simply  drawing  to 
the  door  of  the  little  flat,  made  her  way  down  into 
the  street  and  through  a  few  of  the  narrow  back  ones 
leading  to  the  Embankment 

At  the  corner  of  Oakley  Street  she  saw  a  waiting 
brougham ;  when  she  got  nearer  it  was  plain  to  her 
that  the  servant  occupying  the  box-seat  was  one  well 
known  to  her. 

He  moved  the  horse  onward  at  a  walk  so  that  he 
might  meet  her,  and  touched  his  hat  respectfully,  and 
without  the  ghost  of  expression  of  any  sort  upon  his 
face.  But  Valerie,  with  annoyance,  knew  that  the 
colour  had  crept  into  her  cheeks, 

a  06 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


She  opened  the  door  of  the  brougham  swiftly,  felt 
that  it  snapped  to  at  scarcely  a  touch,  and  then  that 
she  was  being  drawn  rapidly  through  the  streets. 
It  was  a  pleasant  sensation.  This  mode  of  progres- 
sion was  so  much  more  inviting  than  any  she  had 
known  during  the  last  few  months.  It  took  her  back 
to  her  better  days,  and  all  the  luxury  that  had  been 
hers ;  and  she  was  surprised  to  catch  herself  leaning 
back  with  closed  eyes,  rather  enjoying  her  journey 
than  experiencing  the  half  indignation,  half  reluctance 
that  she  told  herself  she  ought  to  have  experienced 
now. 

She  guessed  by  the  direction  in  which  she  was  being 
driven  that  she  was  being  taken  to  Brabazon's  rooms. 
It  was  as  well ;  she  would  have  gone  to  no  public 
place  with  him — he  knew  that,  perhaps, — and  she 
would  not  walk  about  the  streets  with  him  like  a 
housemaid  with  a  soldier. 

A  week  or  two  ago  she  would  have  hesitated,  most 
likely  declined,  to  see  him  at  all ;  but  to-day,  as  all 
through  the  last  seven  days,  it  seemed  to  her  that 
nothing  mattered.  It  had  only  been  when  once  more 
Brabazon  had  come  unexpectedly  into  her  life  that 
she  had  realised  how  weary  she  was  after  her  long 
fight,  that  she  had  understood  that,  strive  as  she 
might,  it  was  evidently  meant  that  escape  from  some- 
one, some  part  of  the  old  life,  would  never  be  hers, 
that  forgetfulness  was  denied  her,  that  to  start  out 
on  any  fresh  path  was  out  of  her  power. 

Brabazon  had  told  her  last  night  that  all  through 
the  last  week — during  which  she  had  hoped  against 
hope  that  he  had  accepted  her  dismissal — he  had 
been  laying  plans.  They  were  plans  against  her, 
plans  which  she  was  as  powerless  to  stand  against 
now  as  she  had  ever  been.  And  now,  to-day,  she 

•07 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


had  not  even  her  old  courage  left  to  her,  not  even 
her  old  strength. 

The  rattle  of  the  wheels  and  the  clatter  of  the 
horse's  hoofs  on  the  stone  paving  of  the  courtyard, 
which  lay  well  back  from  the  road,  and  at  one 
corner  of  which  the  building  that  held  Brabazon's 
rooms  stood,  roused  her  from  thought 

A  moment  more  and  the  wide  glass  doors  facing 
her  were  thrown  open.  One  uniformed  servant  held 
them  back,  another  opened  the  brougham  door 
— in  the  eyes  of  both  she  read  instant  recognition. 
Another,  in  charge  of  the  lift,  took  her  straight 
to  the  floor  above,  and  left  her,  without  request, 
outside  Brabazon's  rooms. 

And  when  the  door  to  them  opened,  Lessing, 
Brabazon's  own  man,  stood  behind  it,  ready  to  escort 
her  over  familiar  ground  to  a  room  that  she  saw  at 
a  glance  was  changed  in  no  way,  that  was  heavy 
with  the  scent  of  flowers  which,  from  their  bank 
in  the  fireplace  to  the  over-laden  window-boxes,  stood 
everywhere  in  profusion. 

Alone,  she  leant  against  the  embrasure  of  the 
window,  her  eyes  on  the  awnings  whose  festooned 
edges  flapped  gently  in  the  faint,  hot  breeze,  her 
mind  in  a  blind  tangle,  through  which  it  was  clear 
only  to  her  that  she  was  struggling  vainly  to  awake 
from  a  disturbing  dream,  her  hands  nervously,  un- 
consciously, snapping  off  the  innocent  heads  of  those 
geraniums  nearest  them. 

Brabazon's  entrance  did  not  rouse  her ;  it  was  only 
when  he  stood  at  her  side,  when  he  took  the  restless 
fingers  into  his  own,  and  with  fond,  gentle  touch 
stripped  them  of  their  suede  covering,  when  close 
to  her  ear  he  murmured  words  of  pleasure,  of 
thanks  to  her  that  she  had  not  failed  him,  that 

ao8 


NOR  ALL  YOUK  TEAES 


she  seemed  to  struggle  out  of  the  lingering,  heavy 
dream. 

"  So  you  came  after  all,"  he  said,  clasping  her 
hands  more  tightly.  "Do  you  know,  Val,  my 
heart  was  in  my  mouth  every  time  I  heard  wheels 
on  the  yard  below!  First,  I  was  maddened  with 
the  fear  that  you  might  be  ill — you  looked  such 
a  little  ghost  last  night, — and  then  that  you  might 
have  given  into  a  fit  of  repentance  of  your  bargain. 
But,"  with  a  long  sigh,  "  you're  here,  and  that  is 
all  I  care  about  for  the  moment  Let  me  look 
at  you,"  pushing  her  a  very  little  away,  and  running 
an  appreciative  pair  of  fond  eyes  over  her  from  her 
feet  to  the  crown  of  her  hat.  "All  white,  of  course, 
it  was  always  all  white  or  all  black.  You're  too  thin, 
Val,  and  you  look  tired  out,  but,  by  heaven !  you 
always  were,  and  always  will  be,  the  loveliest  thing 
on  God's  earth.  Here  is  your  chair,  your  old  one, 
Val !  No  one  else  has  ever  sat  in  it  1  Now,  haven't 
you  one  word  for  me  ?  " 

He  put  her  gently  into  a  great  chair  drawn  close 
to  the  window,  and  heaped  up  with  wide,  lace-covered 
cushions;  he  caught  up  another  from  the  floor  and 
set  it  beneath  her  feet,  not  forgetting  to  kiss  the 
little  insteps  that  showed  pink  through  the  open 
lace-work  of  her  stockings ;  and  then  he  looked  up  in 
some  surprise  as  Val  burst  into  a  sudden  hysterical 
peal  of  laughter,  not  loud,  not  even  amused.  It 
was  laughter  that  held  all  tears,  and  some  fear. 

"  I  was  thinking,"  she  said,  striving  wildly  for  self- 
control,  "that  since  I  left  home  I  have  not  spoken  one 
word  .  .  ." 

"  Then  it  is  time  you  spoke  several — the  first,  to  tell 
me  that  you  are  not  angry  with  me,  that  you  do  not 
mind  my  having  brought  you  here — that  .  .  ." 

209  o 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  It  has  been  like  a  pantomime  scene,"  she  pursued, 
as  if  he  had  not  spoken  ;  "  the  brougham  waiting  for 
me,  the  doors  thrown  open  here  to  me — this  room — 
all  .  .  ." 

"  Like  old  times,  Val — like  those  days  long  ago — 
those  days,  and  nights,  that  were  all  our  own.  I 
wanted  to  remind  you  of  them,  Val."  He  leant  down 
to  her,  resting  one  knee  on  the  broad  arm  of  her  chair, 
and  took  first  her  gloves  and  then  her  flower-covered 
hat,  and  drew  in  his  breath  sharply,  and  slid  his 
arm  between  the  cushions  and  her  back,  as  he  read 
no  signs  of  resistance  in  her  eyes  or  the  movement 
of  her  body. 

Brabazon  was  very  wise ;  no  living  man  understood 
woman  better  than  he ;  his  hold  upon  her  remained 
loose,  gentle,  protecting.  He  held  in  check  an  almost 
overpowering  desire  to  crush  her  in  his  arms,  to  kiss 
the  little  cool  face  at  will,  to  hold  her  captive  while  he 
whispered  to  her  of  what  she  must  know — her  power- 
lessness  against  him.  But  he  did  none  of  these  things; 
instead,  with  every  word,  with  every  touch  he  roused 
within  her,  half  against  her  will,  a  sense  of  confidence, 
a  feeling  of  very  pleasant  restfulness. 

Presently  he  drew  a  chair  near  to  hers,  and  folding 
a  sheet  of  paper  into  the  shape  of  a  fan,  gently  stirred 
the  air  with  it 

"I  want  to  know,"  she  said,  "how  you  found 
me." 

"  It  was  simple  enough,  in  the  end,  Val ;  but  in  the 
beginning  I  almost  gave  up  hope.  On  that  day  when 
you  let  Marshall  shut  your  door  in  my  face,  I  was 
absurdly  angry  with  you.  I  ought  to  have  known 
that  in  the  state  of  your  mind  at  that  moment  you 
were  powerless  to  reason  quietly.  I  thought  I'd  let 
you  get  over  your  anger,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  you 

aio 


would  be  here  again  that  same  night  Don't  curve 
your  lips  into  that  little  sarcastic  line — you  see  I  was 
foolishly  measuring  your  affection  for  me  by  mine  for 
you.  Two  hours  without  you  cured  my  temper 
promptly !  But  when  that  night  went,  and  another, 
and  still  another,  when  days  and  nights  passed  and 
a  whole  week  was  gone,  I  told  myself  I  could  not 
stand  another  hour  of  it. 

I  went  to  your  house,  found  it  was  empty,  heard 
that  Marshall  had  taken  it  on,  but  that  the  sale  of 
furniture  was  about  to  take  place,  saw  the  miserable 
old  liar,  his  wife,  who  swore  that  she  had  no  more 
notion  than  the  babe  unborn  where  you  had  gone. 
That  was  the  first  of  many  facers  for  me,  but  to  take 
you  through  them  would  only  bore— or  perhaps  amuse 
you.  For  weeks  I  searched  every  likely  and  unlikely 
spot;  every  day  I  told  myself  you  might  goto  Halifax 
for  all  I  cared — Gad !  but  I  was  in  a  rage  with  you, — 
every  night  I  woke  up  out  of  dreams  of  you,  and 
realised  to  the  full  my  immeasurable  loss.  Then 
one  day,  pretty  well  four  months  ago,  I  happened  to 
meet  someone  whose  conversation  gave  me  some  sort 
of  idea  that  you  had  returned  to  the  old  house, — " 
he  saw  that  she  started  slightly,  and  as  his  own 
memory  travelled  back  to  his  short  and  sharp  interview 
with  Wingate  on  that  day,  the  softness  momentarily 
died  out  of  his  voice, — "  so  I  went  there,  and  this  time 
caught  Marshall,  who  is  not  so  good  a  liar  as  his  wife. 
He  pretended  to  know  nothing." 

"  He  told  you  the  truth  then,"  she  interrupted.  "  He 
did  not  and  does  not  know  where  I  went." 

Brabazon  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Any  how,"  he  continued,  "  Fate  was  kinder  than 
you  or  your  servant  There  was  a  letter  lying  on  the 
hall  table  addressed  to  you  bearing  the  Mitching 

an 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


postmark.  That  seemed  to  me  a  strange  co- 
incidence, because  I  know  some  people  living  at 
Mitching.  The  Herbertsons,  a  man  called  Grenvil 
Delmar,  and  another  who  continually  stays  with 
him,  Kerr  Wingate.  What  is  it,  Val?"  he  broke 
off  suddenly,  as  a  little  smothered  sound  escaped 
her,  and  she  turned  from  him  a  white,  quivering 
face. 

"  You're  ill — faint !  What  a  careless  brute  I  am ! " 
He  got  up  rapidly  and  rang  a  bell.  Val  did  not  see 
who  answered,  or  hear  what  order  was  given ;  she 
was  only  vaguely  thankful  to  him  that  he  stayed  for 
several  moments  at  the  other  side  of  the  room. 

When  he  came  back,  he  leant  against  her  chair 
again  with  his  knee  on  its  arm,  and  drew  her  forward 
till  her  shoulders  rested  against  it.  With  his  free 
hand  he  reached  backward  to  a  little  table,  and  from 
it  lifted  out  of  its  bed  of  ice  a  bottle  from  which  he 
poured  golden,  sparkling  liquid  into  a  glass  that  he 
held  to  Valerie's  lips. 

"  Drink  it — every  drop,"  he  insisted. 

She  obeyed ;  she  drank  greedily,  thirstily,  because 
her  mouth  was  parched  and  dry,  because  in  a  moment 
it  seemed  to  put  *  new  life  into  her,  to  warm  her 
chilled  blood,  and  sent  it  tingling  through  her  veins. 
And  when  he  refilled  the  glass,  she  took  it  from  him 
with  a  little  smile,  and  held  it  in  her  own  hand,  and 
sipped  at  it  very  slowly,  and  felt  that  she  was  swiftly 
reviving,  felt  pleasantly  dulled  to  the  misery  that 
was  her  constant  companion,  felt  more  strongly  than 
ever  the  conviction  stealing  over  her  that,  after  all, 
nothing  really  mattered,  now. 

"Go  on,"  she  urged  him,  when  he  had  assured 
himself  that  she  was  better  and  had  resumed  his 
seat 

tza 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  Did — you — you  look  for  me  at — at — Mitching." 

"Yes." 

"  You  heard — of  me  ?  " 

"  No.  But  I  happened  to  drop  on  Valdor,  the 
artist,  a  few  days  later.  I'd  lost  sight  of  him  for 
some  years.  When  I  went  into  his  studio,  the  first 
thing  I  saw  was  your  picture.  By  Jove,  I  had  to 
fish  him  like  a  trout!  No  matter  how  deftly  I 
threw,  he  would  not  nibble.  It  took  no  end  of  time ; 
but  at  last  I  managed  to  discover  that  you  were  his 
model,  and  where  you  lived.  You  know  nearly  all 
the  rest  I  found  you ;  you  dismissed  me  instantly. 
I  knew  it  was  useless  to  come  and  try  to  force  my 
way  into  your  home.  I  heard  about  your  'boys' 
from  Valdor.  I  ran  up  against  Dunbar  at  the  studio, 
and  practically  commissioned  him  on  the  spot  to 
write  some  music  that  I've  been  wanting  for  some 
time  for  a  man  who  does  not  know  how  to  go  about 
finding  it  himself.  You  would  not  take  the  cue  I 
gave  you  last  night  when  I  alluded  to  a  former 
meeting,  and  I  thought  you  were  actually  going  to 
refuse  my  friendship." 

"And  you  were  right  .  .  ." 

"  But,  Val,  I  told  you  the  other  night— I " 

"I  don't  forget  Still  I  say  that  for  myself  I 
refuse,  and  always  shall  refuse,  your  friendship,"  with 
a  little  curious  smile.  *  But  I  won't  refuse  it  for  the 
Bogie — young  Dunbar.  It  is  why  I  am  here  now; 
it  is  why  I  gave  in  to  you  when  you  exacted  my 
promise  to  meet  you.  Let  us  understand  each  other, 
Cuthbert  I  went  out  of  your  life,  I  stayed  out  of 
it ;  because  I  eluded  you,  I  became  the  more  desirable 
in  your  eyes.  If  I  had  remained  at  hand,  the  search 
for  me  would  have  lost  all  its  charm.  Because  you 
know  that  my  heart  is  ice  you  are  keener,  far  keener 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


than  in  the  old  days,  to  bring  to  it  warmth  ;  because 
you  think  that  passion  is  dulled  to  sleep  within  me, 
you  cannot  know  rest  till  you  have  succeeded 
in  stirring  it  once  more  to  life,  till  again  you 
awake  it  .  .  ." 

"You  wrong  me!"  he  broke  in  across  her  words. 
"  From  the  hour  you  parted  from  me  I  could  not 
know  rest,  because  I  could  not  forget  you  ;  I  knew 
I  could  not  live  without  you,  and  I  wanted  more 
than  anything  to  set  right  the  wrong  I  had  done 
you.  Val,  be  a  little  reasonable  now,  at  anyrate. 
After  all,  was  my  crime  so  great  against  you  ?  Look 
back  upon  that  time,  and  ask  yourself." 

"  I  have  looked  back — through  all  these  months  I 
have  done  nothing  else  but  look  back — and  I  have 
realised  that  if  first  the  blame  was  with  you,  after- 
wards it  all  lay  at  my  door.  I  said  that  to  you  then, 
I  say  it  again.  It  was  only — only " 

"It  was  only  that,  after  all,  you  learned  that  the 
love  you  gave  me  was  nothing  to  the  love  of  which 
you  were  capable.  You  met  another  who,  perhaps, 
would  have  scorned  to  stoop  to  deception,  but  whose 
love  for  you  was  not  strong  enough  to  take  risk  of 
any  sort — not  strong  enough  to  pardon — only  so 
weak  that  when  he  knew  you  were  not  all  he  had 
believed  you,  he  turned  from  you,  and  left  you  to 
the  life  you  have  led  since — a  hell  of  work  and  want 
and  useless  regret  1 " 

Her  eyes  asked  a  question  that  he  answered  at 
once. 

"  I  know,  not  because  I  have  heard  one  word  of 
you  since  the  day  you  bid  me  leave  you,  but  because 
of  what  you  said  to  me  the  other  night.  I  know, 
because  you  have  made  me  understand  that  your 
heart  is  dead  to  me.  The  wrong  I  did  you  would 

214 


NOK  ALL  YOUK  TEAKS 


not  kill  love  ;  the  fact  that  I  have  a  wife,  and  that 
I  kept  that  secret  from  you,  would  not  kill  love 
either.  You  know  as  well  as  I,  that  in  letting  me 
give  my  life  up  to  you,  you  would  be  wronging 
no  woman.  You  turned  from  me  first  in  bitter 
disappointment  and  anger,  which  I  understand  better 
now  than  I  did  then  ;  you  turn  from  me  now  because 
you  are  on  your  knees  at  another  man's  heart — the 
heart  of  a  man  who  feared  to  make  you  his  wife. 
And  think  of  me  as  you  will,  I  maintain  that  mine 
is  a  better  love  than  his.  I  only  ask  you  to  let  me 
make  what  poor  amends  I  can;  I  only  ask  to  make 
your  life  easier ;  I  only  ask  you  to  believe  that  you 
are  dearer  to  me  now  than  you  ever  were.  I  only 
ask  you  to  let  me  send  you  or  take  you  somewhere 
where  you  will  be  happier,  where  you  will  regain 
your  lost  health.  Can't  you  understand  that  I  ask 
nothing — nothing  else  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him  curiously :  though  she  heard 
every  word  distinctly,  and  took  in  the  sense  of  each, 
she  was  conscious  that  while  he  spoke  she  was  silent, 
chiefly  because  she  was  trying  to  shake  off  a  feeling 
of  curious  numbness  that  was  not  unpleasant  The 
fumes  of  the  wine  had  risen  to  her  head,  and  had 
tipped  her  thoughts,  somehow,  with  a  touch  of 
recklessness  that  she  but  vaguely  understood.  All 
the  time  a  voice  seemed  to  be  whispering  in  her  ears, 
"nothing  matters."  Brabazon  had  said,  with  brutal 
truth,  but  with  gentle  pity,  that  she  was  on  her  knees 
at  another  man's  heart  It  was  true.  She  had  not 
thought  of  it  before  ;  but  she  knew  that  she  had 
been  on  her  knees  at  Wingate's  heart  all  through 
these  long  weary  days  that  had  robbed  her  of  hope 
and  of  health.  And  it  might  be  that  he  cared 
nothing,  that  he  had  forgotten.  He  must  be  careless 

"5 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


of  her  fate,  since  never  once  had  he  sought  to  know 
what  it  might  be. 

Brabazon,  in  taking  her  glass,  had  kept  her  hand 
in  his  possession,  and  now  he  was  silent  while  he 
smoothed  the  soft  palm  gently.  With  every  word 
and  touch  he  took  her  back  to  the  first  days  of  their 
love,  the  best  days,  when  she  had  trusted  him  utterly ; 
when  in  his  own  manner,  a  manner  baffling  de- 
scription, he  had  won  her  confidence  and  her  heart, 
and  had  filled  her  days  with  joy,  the  memory  of 
which  returned  to  her  with  full  force  now. 

"  Don't  you  understand  ?  "  he  questioned  again. 

"No;  I  don't  Nothing  on  earth  could  make  me 
believe  in  an  utterly  disinterested  friendship  from 
you.  But  I  am  certain  that  you  mean  well.  Tell 
me  how  well  you  mean  towards  young  Dunbar  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  follow  you,  VaL  But  I  can  put  work  in 
his  way ;  his  own  splendid  talent  will  lead  him  to 
fame." 

"  Not  without  assistance." 

"  Not  without  assistance,"  Brabazon  repeated. 

"  Frankly,  are  you  prepared  to  give  it  him  for  my 
sake?" 

"  Frankly,  I  am." 

"  And  if  I  go  out  of  this  room  now,  and  tell  you 
that  I  never  mean  to  see  or  speak  to  you  again — you 
will  wash  your  hands  of  him  ?  " 

"I  shall.  That  is  not  a  threat,  VaL  It's  forcing 
you  into  a  bargain  that  will  be  for  your  good.  Let 
me  ease  my  conscience  by  making  up  to  you  a  little 
for  the  past,  and  in  return  I'll  fling  that  boy  up  the 
ladder  of  fame  as  fast  as  I  can  manage  it  Come 
back  into  my  life — you'll  do  it  with  your  eyes  open 
this  time,  and  I  swear  I'll  not  abuse  your  trust  in  me 
— and  you  may  command  of  me  first  for  yourself,  and 

216 


NOK  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 


then  for  those  struggling  boys,  all  of  them,  what  you 
will" 

"  Come  back  into  your  life  .  .  .  ? "  she  echoed. 

"  Yes ;  give  me  the  right  to  stand  between  you  and 
the  misery  of  your  life  now — restore  to  me  the  rights 
you  gave  me  long  ago,  and  I'll  show  you  how  very 
little  I  shall  ask — if  you  will  trust  me.  Oh,  hang  it, 
Val,"  getting  up  and  walking  restlessly  about  the 
room  with  both  hands  thrust  deep  into  his  pockets, 
"  I  love  you  !  I'm  mad  with  the  joy  of  having  found 
you  and  of  seeing  you  here.  I've  been  fighting  like 
a  demon  with  the  desire  to  hold  you  in  my  arms, 
and  tell  you  all  that  is  in  my  heart — I'm  mad 
with  longing  for  the  touch  of  your  lips,  and — and — 
with  .  .  .  damn  it !  I'm  trying  to  do  and  say  all  that 
you  could  wish,  but  I'm  not  such  a  fool  that  I  don't 
know  you've  not  got  a  chance  against  me  now.  I 
behaved  badly  to  you  once,  and  I  want  to  show 
you  that  I  know  I  deserve  some  sort  of  punishment 
God  knows  you're  giving  it  to  me  at  this  moment ; 
but  there's  a  limit  to  my  patience  ..." 

He  came  to  her  side  suddenly  and  stood  over  her, 
all  the  indolence  dying  out  of  his  eyes  and  voice. 
She  looked  up  at  him,  and  told  herself  that  what 
he  said  he  meant  for  the  moment,  and  that  equally 
for  the  moment  she  held  all  and  more  than  her  old 
influence  over  him.  She  looked  up  into  his  face,  and 
unfortunately  she  laughed.  The  effect  was  like  flame 
to  oil.  He  lifted  her  out  of  the  chair  so  swiftly  that 
she  had  no  time  to  resist.  He  kissed  her  eyes  and 
her  hair  and  her  throat  half  savagely,  and  pushed 
aside  the  laces  at  her  breast  to  rest  his  lips  on  the 
soft  flesh  beneath.  And  he  held  her  lips  to  his  till 
she  thrust  his  head  back  breathlessly. 

M  It  is  your  own  fault  Why  did  you  laugh  at 
217 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


me?"  he  demanded,  a  little  alarmed  when  he  saw 
that  she  lay  back  in  his  hold  white  as  death.  "  Val, 
you're  not  trying  to  get  away  from  me.  What  is  it 
that  you  mean  .  .  ." 

"  What  is  my  strength  against  yours  ?  " 

He  put  her  back  into  the  chair,  while  he  told 
himself  that  he  could  wait. 

"Are  you  going  to  be  friends  with  me?"  lamely, 
but  with  a  touch  of  fear.  She  let  her  hand  rest 
in  his. 

"Val,  I  can't  put  up  with  the  idea  of  your  going 
back  to  that  miserable  den.  Will  you  t  .  ." 

"  Wait,"  she  said,  "  I  am  not  going  to  answer 
you  yet  I  must  have  time  to  think  .  .  ." 

"  To-morrow ;  not  an  hour  more." 

"  I  won't  promise.     Let  me  go  now." 

"  Rubbish  1  You  are  going  to  dine  here  with 
me." 

"  Will  you  send  me  home  before  half-past  ten  ?  * 

"  If  you  insist." 

"  Very  well,  then,  I  dine  with  you." 

He  said  nothing  for  many  minutes ;  then  he  bent 
down  till  his  face  almost  touched  her  hair. 

"  You  don't  care  a  hang  for  me  now,  Val  ?  " 

"You  put  it  vulgarly.  I've  no  heart,  no  power 
to  love." 

"  You  never  will  care — again." 

"You  want  to  look  too  far  into  the  future." 

"  Have  you  forgotten — everything  ?  Am  I  nothing 
to  you  ?  Do  you  hate  me  ?  " 

"Will  you  swear  not  to  behave  as  you  behaved 
just  now  if  I  tell  you  the  truth  ?  " 

*  I  swear  .  .  .  ! " 

"Well,  if — if — you  would  be  gentle  to  me — your 
better  self,  as  you  were  when  I  saw  you  first  to-night, 

218 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 


I  should  like  you  better  than  I  ever — I  should  care 
for  you  more  than  I  ever  cared." 

"  What  am  I — what  does  my  life  matter  now,"  she 
said  in  her  heart,  while  with  his  gentlest  grace  he 
bent  over  her  hands,  and  her  dry,  hot  eyes  rested 
on  his  head.  "He  has  forgotten,  and  I  need  not 
remember." 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


XXII 

IT  was  close  upon  eleven  when  Valerie  mounted 
the  stairs  which  led  to  her  home;  her 
inclination  was  to  go  at  once  to  her  own 
rooms,  but  she  knew  that  Dunbar  would  not 
go  to  bed  till  he  was  sure  that  she  had  returned. 
She  was  curiously  tired,  tired  as  she  had  never  been 
before,  tired  in  a  way  that  made  her  feel  helpless 
and  foolish,  and  momentarily  on  the  point  of 
hysterical  laughter. 

The  boys  had  heard  her  light  step  on  the  stairs, 
and  the  door  was  thrown  open  to  her  before  she 
reached  it 

"Back  again!"  Dunbar  exclaimed  cheerfully, 
taking  her  bare,  cool  hands,  and  drawing  her  into 
their  common  sitting-room. 

He  did  not  ask  her  where  she  had  been ;  it  was 
the  sort  of  question  they  never  asked  each  other. 
All  were  free  to  come  and  go  without  the  fear  of 
comment,  of  demands  for  explanation.  Generally 
Valerie  told  them  quite  naturally;  to-night  she  did 
not  Dunbar  had  been  at  home  nearly  half  an  hour, 
he  said ;  the  young  artist,  Fred  Hermann,  had  been 
busily  cooking  and  eating  supper  during  that  time ; 
and  Charlie  Marks,  "the  author"  as  he  was  called, 
had  not  yet  put  in  an  appearance. 

The  eyes  of  Hermann  and  Dunbar  ran  swiftly 
over  her  dress,  and  then  they  met,  and  then  both 
men  turned  abruptly  aside. 

•M 


NOR  ALL  YOUE  TEARS 


"Any  luck,  Bogie?"  she  inquired,  not  seating 
herself,  but  leaning  a  little  heavily  against  the 
back  of  a  chair. 

*  I  think  so — of  course  nothing  is  absolutely 
settled  yet.  One  could  hardly  expect  that  in  so 
short  a  time.  Brabazon  himself  did  not  turn  up 
this  evening  as  he  half  promised,  but  I  shall  see 
him,  I  think,  to-morrow." 

Valerie's  eyes  were  on  the  floor,  a  very  faint  pink 
was  coming  and  going  in  her  cheeks,  the  hysterical 
laugh  was  threatening  her  again,  and  she  had  to 
cover  it  with  an  absurd  sort  of  suppressed  giggle, 
that  caused  both  men  to  stare  at  her  hard. 

"I'm  glad,"  she  said.  "What  do  you  think  of 
the  whole  affair,  Fred  ?  " 

"It  strikes  me  as  being  a  splendid  opportunity. 
I'm  more  pleased  than  I  can  say.  I  wonder  what 
has  come  of '  the  author '  ?  " 

"You're  very  white,  Val,"  said  Dunbar,  still 
avoiding  Hermann's  eyes,  and  looking  at  the  girl 
with  a  puzzled  frown. 

"  I'm  tired.  I'll  go  to  bed.  Don't  sit  up  too  late, 
you  boys.  Good-night" 

She  blew  them  a  little  kiss  from  her  finger-tips, 
and  went  towards  the  door.  But  half  way  she 
paused,  and  looked  on  the  floor  and  the  table 
searchingly. 

"  Lost  something,  Val  ?  "  Hermann  asked,  looking 
round  too. 

"Your  gloves?"  inquired  Dunbar,  who  had 
noticed  that  her  hands  and  arms  were  bare  to  the 
elbows. 

"  I — perhaps  I  dropped  them — it  was  so  hot  ...  * 
she  returned,  and  then,  with  that  new  foolish  giggle 
and  another  good  night,  turned  away. 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 

The  men  sat  silent,  after  she  had  gone,  for 
many  moments.  Neither  cared  to  be  the  first  to 
speak,  it  seemed.  At  last  Hermann  ventured  the 
remark — 

"Is  she  ill,  Bogie?" 

"She's  been  ill  for  months,  but  it's  not  that  to- 
night" 

He  took  out  a  fresh  cigarette,  passed  the  case  to 
his  companion,  and  then  struck  and  held  out  a  match 
with  much  deliberation. 

"Fred,  what's  in  your  mind?  Upon  my  soul,  I 
don't  know  how  to  put  my  thought  into  words,  and 
I  feel  as  though  you  ought  to  horsewhip  me  for 
giving  heed  to  it  a  moment" 

"  If  it  was  any  other  woman,  I  should  say  she'd  had 
more  to  drink  than  is  good  for  her  ..." 

Dunbar  made  a  gesture  that  said  his  own  thought 
had  been  put  into  words. 

"  But  with  Val,M  the  other  continued,  "  the  idea  is 
an  insult,  beside  being  too  absurd." 

"  You  saw  how  she  is  dressed,  Fred  ?  " 

"As  I've  never  seen  her  dressed  since  she  came 
here." 

"  And  she  turns  up  at  eleven,  for  the  first  time, 
saying  nothing  of  where  she  has  been." 

"  She's  her  own  mistress,  Bogie — and  ..." 

"  I'm  aware  of  that  But  if  she  were  our  sister  she 
couldn't  be  more  dear  to  us.  You  know  as  well  as  I, 
that  if  I  thought  anyone — if  ..." 

The  words  were  checked  by  the  sudden  entrance 
of  Charlie  Marks. 

"Any  luck?"  he  inquired  of  Dunbar,  "and  any 
supper  left  ?  "  while  he  put  down  a  brown  paper  parcel 
and  seemed  to  be  looking  round  the  room  for  some- 
one else. 

tit 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  I  think  so  to  both  questions." 

"  Good  !  I'll  hear  about  the  one,  and  have  some 
of  the  other." 

Another  pause,  and  then  suddenly — 

"Where's  Val?" 

"  Gone  to  bed." 

"  Not  been  out  ? "  looking  from  one  to  the  other. 

"Yes.  Only  came  in  about  ten  minutes  ago. 
What  makes  you  ask  ?  " 

"  If  I  tell  you,  you'll  only  think  me  a  fool,  but 
hanged  if  I've  ever  been  more  puzzled  in  my  life. 
How  did  she  come  home  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  see  her  till  she  came  in." 

"Did  she  have  on  white — white  lace  mostly?" 

"Yes." 

"And  a  hat  that  was  all  roses,  and  one  white 
feather?" 

"Yes." 

Hermann  and  Dunbar  looked  at  each  other 
curiously. 

"  Then  I  was  right !  I  thought  if  I'd  taken  any 
other  woman  for  Val  that  I  must  be  either  mad  or 
drunk.  I  got  into  the  wrong  bus,  and  when  we  were 
at  the  King's  Road  I  noticed  it.  Got  out  at  the  top 
of  Oakley  Street  and  walked  down.  Two  minutes 
after,  a  smart  brougham  pulled  up.  The  woman  I've 
described  got  out,  and  headed  for  this  direction.  I 
should  have  run  after  her  in  sheer  amaze,  but  that  I 
went  right  into  Jephson's  arms.  He  wouldn't  let  me 
go,  and  of  course  the  woman  disappeared.  But  if  it 
was  not  Val — well,  I'll  eat  my  hat !  " 

Dunbar  sat  down  heavily  in  Valerie's  chair. 

"Got  out  of  a  brougham?  At  the  corner  of 
Oakley  Street,  you  say  ?  " 

"  Out  of  a  brougham — a  small  night  affair — smart 
f.M 


NOB  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


coachman — splendid  chestnut  horse.  Did  she  say 
where  she'd  been?" 

"No." 

"First  time,  then.  Fred,  Bogie,  what  does  it 
mean  ?  " 

"  God  knows,"  returned  Dunbar,  and  took  another 
cigarette. 

The  next  morning  Valerie  was  up  to  give  them 
breakfast  in  the  usual  way.  She  looked  very 
childish  and  frail  in  her  blue  overall,  and  with  the 
rough  masses  of  her  hair  caught  back  by  a  ribbon 
at  the  nape  of  her  neck.  She  frizzled  the  bacon 
and  poached  the  eggs,  and  scolded  Marks  for  letting 
the  coffee  boil  over,  in  just  her  old  merry  way,  and 
though  every  movement  was  an  effort — an  effort 
that  became  a  more  serious  one  every  day — she 
hid  the  fact  bravely  under  light  chatter,  while,  as 
ever,  she  kept  the  men  talking  of  themselves,  and 
turned  their  attention  as  much  as  possible  from 
herselt 

This  morning  it  was  not  an  easy  task.  They 
were  a  little  ill  at  ease  with  her;  Charlie  Marks 
wore  an  almost  guilty  air,  and  Hermann  and  Dunbar 
could  not  manage  to  meet  her  eyes.  The  very 
atmosphere  of  the  little  flat  seemed  to  have  changed. 
The  chief  interest  that  these  boys  had  in  life,  outside 
their  work,  seemed  to  have  been  swept  away  from 
them  suddenly.  They  had  said  little  to  each  other 
on  the  previous  night,  they  had  had  little  opportunity 
of  saying  anything  this  morning,  but  each  felt,  in  a 
different  way,  that  he  had  been  robbed  of  something, 
that  there  was  a  change,  that  never  again  could  the 
little  home  in  which  they  had  been  sad  and  merry 
seem  the  same  in  their  eyes.  Involuntarily  their 
minds  went  back  to  Valerie's  entrance  into  it,  and 

224 


NOB  ALL  YOUK  TEARS 


they  remembered  that  of  the  circumstances  which 
led  to  her  making  her  home  with  them  when  she 
was  alone,  in  want,  and  evidently  deserted  by  all, 
they  knew  nothing.  They  had  never  sought  to 
know — they  did  not  care.  Her  father  had  been 
their  kindest  friend ;  in  his  better  days  he  had  not 
only  helped  them  as  lads,  but  had  practically  kept 
them.  He  had  given  them  work  which  was  a  sheer 
excuse  for  paying  them,  and  he  had  saved  them 
from  much  that  now  they  hardly  dared  to  look 
back  upon.  When  their  turn  had  come  unexpectedly 
to  give  such  as  they  had  to  his  daughter,  to  give 
her,  at  all  events,  their  care  and  affection,  and  the 
protection  of  which  she  seemed  to  stand  in  need, 
they  took  the  opportunity  gladly  and  thankfully. 
And  from  that  day  till  this  she  had  been  the  light 
of  their  home,  the  incentive  to  work,  in  many  things 
their  guide. 

She  had  made  the  dingy  flat  a  home,  and  one  to 
which  they  were  ever  glad  to  return.  She  was 
responsible  for  keeping  them  out  of  cheap  restaurants 
and  bars ;  she  caused  them  to  pick  and  choose  their 
companions,  because  there  were  few  whom  they 
cared  to  introduce  to  her;  and  though  they  hardly 
knew  it  themselves,  she  held  them  back  from  many 
things  of  which  to-day  they  would  have  been 
ashamed,  and  for  which  they  would  have  felt  regret 
Their  lives  were  almost  an  open  book  for  her  to 
read,  as  they  lived  them  now ;  their  clean,  simple, 
hard-working  existence  they  had  been  proud  to 
share  with  her;  and  now  it  had  come  upon  them 
with  a  shock,  that  her  life  held  some  secret,  not  of 
the  past,  but  of  the  present,  which  they  might  not 
share,  some  secret  that  planted  in  their  young  hearts 
and  minds  suspicion,  anxiety,  fear  for  her,  which 

*a  r 


NOB  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


never  once  was  tipped  with  anything  resembling 
mere  disappointment  or  simple  curiosity. 

She  had  seemed  to  belong  so  wholly  to  them,  to 
their  tender  affection  and  their  care.  When  she 
leant  back  in  her  chair  this  morning  and  poured 
out  their  coffee,  they  looked  at  her,  and  told 
themselves  that  she  belonged  to  them  wholly  no 
longer. 

They  went  out  together  presently,  and  they  went 
out  in  rare  silence.  They  hung  together  all  that 
morning,  as  people  do  insensibly,  in  trouble,  in  grief. 

"  What  do  you  think,"  asked  Hermann  once,  and 
Dunbar  answered  with  rare  impatience  for  him  : 

"  How  can  I  say  ?     We  shall  know  soon  enough !  " 

But  the  sweetness  of  the  thought  of  success,  of 
one  day,  perhaps,  fame,  was  taken  out  of  all  his  work 
that  day. 

Dunbar  was  kept  too  busily  engaged  during  the 
next  week  to  give  way  to  disturbing  thoughts ;  a 
little  of  his  new  success  seemed  to  be  shared  by 
his  companions,  who  picked  up  some  fairly  profitable 
employment,  which  kept  them  very  busy ;  and 
Cuthbert  Brabazon  was  constantly  at  their  home. 
Every  night  there  was  a  fresh  discussion  on  the 
question  of  the  music,  which  it  had  been  determined 
Dunbar  should  write  specially,  not  using  anything 
that  he  had  done  before ;  every  day  there  was  some 
meeting  at  a  place  always  appointed  by  Brabazcn. 
As  Valerie  had  fully  anticipated,  Brabazon  wove  part 
of  his  life  into  theirs,  deftly,  carefully ;  he  made 
part  of  the  happenings  of  their  days  part  of  the 
happenings  of  his.  By  degrees  he  interested  himself 
in  the  work  done  both  by  Marks  and  Hermann. 
It  was  at  his  suggestion  that  a  certain  magazine  or 
paper  was  tried  for  the  publication  of  a  likely  story 

•26 


NOK  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 


or  article,  perhaps  his  letter  with  which  Charlie 
Marks  went  armed  to  the  editor.  It  was  Brabazon 
who  gave  Hermann  his  first  commission  worth  the 
name,  who  bought  one  or  two  of  his  pictures  at 
very  fair  prices,  and,  more  than  that,  recommended 
Hermann  to  many  of  his  friends.  He  had  an 
exceedingly  nice  manner  of  doing  these  things,  too, 
and  a  very  unobtrusive  one.  He  became  the  best 
of  friends  with  them  all — Valerie  standing  out  alone, 
conspicuously,  for  her  extreme  coldness  of  manner 
to  him,  which,  however,  never  amounted  to  rudeness. 

But  though  Brabazon  helped  them  easily,  as  if 
half  unconsciously,  in  many  ways;  though  he  kept 
Dunbar  busy  at  work,  and  though  that  work  gave 
evident  satisfaction,  nothing  had  been  decided.  He 
had  not  been  actually  commissioned  to  write  the 
music  for  the  musical  comedy  for  which  the  book 
and  lyrics  were  almost  complete.  There  was  nothing 
yet  upon  paper;  and  always  there  was  a  sense  of 
uncertainty,  a  feeling  which  Dunbar's  friends  shared 
with  him,  that  Brabazon  was  waiting,  hanging  back 
a  little,  for  what,  they  could  not  conjecture. 

Valerie  knew ;  and  the  knowledge  seemed  to  sap 
her  little  remaining  strength,  to  rob  her  of  the  little 
life  left  in  her. 

The  old  cry,  "  Nothing  matters,"  rang  in  her  ears 
day  and  night ;  it  was  only  the  courage  to  let  it  lead 
her  on,  to  listen  to  it  above  every  other  voice,  which 
failed  her. 

She  was  thinking  so,  and  despising  herself  generally 
one  night,  when  the  Bogie  entered  hurriedly. 

"  Brabazon  not  here  ?  "  he  inquired  of  her.  "  That's 
odd.  He  was  to  be  up  here  by  eight  sharp,  and  I 
raced  home  all  I  knew  to  meet  him.  It's  twenty 
past,"  looking  at  his  watch. 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"Not  so  much  over  the  hour,"  soothed  Valerie. 
"  What  is  on  to-night  ?  " 

"Why,  Ellison  is  coming1  up  with  him.  On  him, 
it  seems,  that  the  real  decision  depends." 

Valerie  said  "Oh!"  and  she  turned  to  study  the 
young  man's  face,  while  he  busied  himself  about, 
unconscious  of  her  scrutiny.  How  young  and  happy 
it  was !  How  keen  and  bright  and  full  of  hope  were 
the  kind  eyes,  with  their  new  light  shining  in  them ! 
How  all  life  had  changed  for  him  with  this  new  hope ! 

If  he  but  knew  it,  hope  and  life  itself,  or  all  that 
made  life  worth  the  name  to  him,  lay  in  the  palm 
of  her  hand,  to  give  or  to  withhold.  If  he  knew  it 
he  would  dash  her  hand  aside,  and  trample  his  work 
to  rags  at  her  feet ;  and  all  his  life  would  be  ruined, 
now  that  he  had  tasted  the  sweets  of  possible  success. 
What  might  not  become  of  him  then?  She  dared 
not  think.  It  was  her  fault  that  he  had  gone  so  far ; 
she  would  be  a  coward  indeed  if  she  dragged  him 
back  now. 

"Here  they  are!"  exclaimed  Dunbar,  across  her 
thoughts.  "  No — only  Brabazon,"  stretching  his  neck 
to  look  out  of  the  window. 

Valerie  came  back  to  life  with  Brabazon's  voice 
in  her  ears,  and  her  fingers  held  in  his  close  clasp. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  quite  half  an  hour  late,"  he  said, 
*  I  must  ask  you  to  forgive  me.  The  fact  is,  the  day 
has  been  simply  full  up ;  and  to  finish  it  I  committed 
the  rare  folly  of  going  to  a  wedding,  or,  rather,  to 
the  reception  after  it  Beastly  bore,  and  hindered 
me  fearfully." 

"I  rather  like  seeing  weddings — pretty  ones," 
Valerie  said,  simply  for  the  sake  of  saying  something. 

"  Do  you  ?  Well,  you  should  have  had  my  place, 
and  welcome,  this  afternoon,  Miss  Drummond.  I 
-  228 


NOE  ALL  YOUR  TEAES 


daresay  it  was  as  pretty  as  you  could  wish.  What 
took  me  to  it  was  that  I  simply  wouldn't  believe  this 
chap  had  committed  matrimony  if  I  had  not  seen  him 
with  my  own  eyes.  Known  him  for  years,  but  never 
knew  him  to  look  at  any  woman.  Went  out  of 
England  about  four  or  five  months  ago,  and  not  his 
best  friend  knew  or  heard  anything  of  him  till  he 
returned  in  company  with  the  lady  who  is  his  wife 
to-day,  and  her  people.  Sheer  amaze  dragged  me 
to  the  show,  and  then  he  is  a  great  friend  of  my 
wife's.  I  don't  suppose  you'd  know  him,  though  he 
is  a  bit  of  an  artist  himself,  I  think." 

"  Who  ? "  asked  Dunbar,  from  the  other  side  of  the 
room,  only  having  caught  a  word  here  and  there,  and 
not  much  interested. 

"  His  name's  Kerr  Wingate.  I  was  saying  I  went 
to  see  him  married  to-day,  or  at  least  .  .  .  Miss 
Drummond  !  Good  heavens ! " 

The  startled  exclamation  brought  Dunbar  swiftly 
across  the  room  in  time  to  hear  a  stifled  cry  from 
Valerie,  to  see  her  hand  go  up  to  her  throat  as 
though  she  were  choking,  and  then  to  know  that  she 
had  fallen  forward  into  Brabazon's  arms  unconscious. 

What  he  did  not  see  was  the  flash  of  light  that 
momentarily  shone  in  Brabazon's  languid  eyes,  the 
smile  that  for  an  instant  played  about  his  mouth — 
a  smile  that  said  a  thousand  things.  What  Dunbar 
did  not  hear  was  the  long  indrawn  breath  that  caught 
in  Brabazon's  throat  almost  like  the  sound  of  a  sob. 
They  put  her  into  a  great  chair;  they  brought  brandy 
and  a  fan,  and  Dunbar  searched  her  room  for  eau- 
de-cologne.  When  she  came  back  to  life  it  was  to 
look  straight  up  into  Brabazon's  eyes,  to  feel  his 
fingers  clasped  on  her  wrist,  her  face  damp  and 
chilled,  and  to  see,  as  she  looked  upward,  the  loose 

229 


NOR  ALL  YOUK  TEARS 


strands  of  her  hair  twisting  themselves  into  little 
wet  rings. 

Dunbar  had  gone  out  of  the  room  again  in  search 
of  something  for  her  comfort.  Brabazon  brought  his 
eyes  back  from  the  closed  door  to  hers  once  more. 
He  bent  down  till  his  lips  were  close  to  her  ear. 

"  Listen  to  me,  Val,"  he  said  decidedly,  "  this  can't 
and  shan't  go  on.  I  won't  stand  it !  I  gave  you  a 
day  in  which  you  should  answer  me  a  certain  question. 
That's  a  week  ago,  and  I've  let  you  have  all  the  other 
six  because  I'm  a  weak  fool  in  your  hands.  This  has 
settled  it  At  this  rate  you've  not  many  more  weeks 
to  live.  I'm  going  to  take  you  out  of  it  all,  with  or 
without  your  consent — I'd  rather  it  were  with  it. 

You  will  have  to "  he  paused  and  brought  her 

face  round  to  his  till  their  eyes  were  close,  "you'll 
have  to  choose  now,  at  this  moment,  before  Dunbar 
comes  back,  for  yourself  and — and — for  him — them. 
You'll  have  to  give  me  your  answer." 

"You  want  .  .  ."  she  began,  and  he  made  a  gesture 
of  great  impatience,  while  his  fingers  strengthened 
their  hold  on  hers,  and  his  eyes  went  back  anxiously 
to  the  door. 

"  I  want  you.  I  told  you  the  other  night,"  hurriedly, 
"that  I  wanted  you  to  come  back  into  my  life — I 
want  your  promise." 

"And  then  .  .  .?" 

"  You  are  simply  playing  with  words  to  gain  time, 
to  hold  out  till  Dunbar  comes  back  into  the  room, 
when  you  think  you  will  have  put  me  off  for  another 
day.  When  I  have  your  promise  his  future  will  be 
pretty  well  assured.  Be  quick,  I  hear  him  coming 
back  .  .  ." 

"  If  he  knew  .  .  ." 

"  Well,  he  doesn't  And  if  he  ever  knows — it  will 
230 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


be  when  he  has  made  his  way  and  some  of  his  fortune, 
and  he  will  have  forgotten — you." 

She  hardly  heard  a  word.  She  had  come  back  to 
life  and  memory  with  one  sentence  of  his  ringing  in 
her  ears,  hammering  on  her  aching  head,  beating  into 
her  dazed  brain  :  "His  namJs  Kerr  Wingate.  I  was 
saying  I  went  to  see  him  married  to-day  .  .  ."  And 
over  it  the  old  cry,  the  old  voice  saying  through  the 
storm  of  her  useless  tears,  "  Nothing  matters.  Why 
need  you  remember,  since  he  has  forgotten  ?  " 

"  Nothing  matters,"  she  said  heavily,  unconsciously 
echoing  the  cry. 

"  You  promise,  Val  ?  " 

"  As  you  like.     I  ..." 

He  silenced  her  with  his  mouth  crushed  on  hers. 

When  Dunbar  returned  Brabazon  was  sitting  on 
the  window  sill,  looking  a  little,  a  very  little,  bored. 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


XXIII 

IT  was  the  sweetest  of  all  months,  September — 
September  ripe,  hushed,  golden  brown. 
Never  did  Delmar  display  its  beauties  as  at 
this  season  of  the  year,  and   so   thought   Pat 
Brabazon  to-day  as  she  drove  up  to  the  door,  her 
eyes  looking  lovingly  out  on  to  the  gardens  that  were 
so  dear  to   her,   her    feet    impatient    to    leave    the 
carriage. 

Grenvil  Delmar  himself  came  out  to  meet  her. 

"  I  sent  you  word — you  expected  me?"  she  said,  as 
they  reached  the  hall.  "You  can  give  me  half  an 
hour?" 

He  did  not  answer  till  he  had  led  her  into  his  own 
den  ;  then  he  closed  the  door  behind  them,  and  held 
her  hands  for  a  long  moment  to  his  lips. 

"  My  whole  life,"  he  returned,  "  as  you  know." 

"  What  a  comfort  you  are,  Gren ! "  she  declared, 
trying  to  laugh,  because  she  felt  that  tears  were  close, 
and  because  everything  grew  bright,  the  way  always 
clearer  and  easier  in  his  presence. 

"  Something  has  happened,"  he  questioned,  while  he 
took  her  long  driving  coat  and  threw  it  over  a  chair. 
"  Something  to  trouble  you  ?  " 

She  nodded. 

"Something  is  always  happening  to  trouble  me, 
and  I'm  always  flying  to  you  when  it  does.  You're 
the  only  creature  alive,  Gren,  who  understands  me  a 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


little  bit!  I've  been  playing  detective,"  she  added, 
while  he  smiled  and  sat  on  the  edge  of  a  table  very 
close  to  her  chair,  "  and  I'm  not  only  displeased  with 
the  results,  but  a — little  frightened." 

"  Small  wonder !  You  detective  1  What  on  earth 
do  you  mean,  Pat?" 

"It's  about  that  poor  girl,  Valerie  Drummond 
..."  watching  him  out  of  the  corners  of  her  lovely 
anxious  eyes,  while  Delmar  only  said  "  Oh !  " 

"  If  you  say  '  Oh  !'  like  that,  I  shan't— like  you." 

"  I'll  say  it  anyhow  you  please,  my  dear ;  but  I 
thought  you  had  forgotten  her." 

"  Then  you  thought  wrong.  I  couldn't — I  knew  I 
never  should  ;  the  thought  of  her  positively  haunted 
me.  But  I've  found  out  all  about  her  in  these  last 
two  months — and  it's  distressing.  Aren't  you  in- 
terested," quickly,  "don't  you  care?  Are  you  still 
prejudiced  ?  " 

"If  you  are  interested  and  care,  then  I  am,"  he 
returned,  clasping  tightly  the  little  hand  she  had 
slipped  into  his.  "  But  if  I  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  a 
bit  prejudiced  still.  Her  name  suggests — oh,  many 
things,  people,  I  don't  want  to  remember  or  let  you 
remember ;  and,  apart  from  that,  I  cannot  help 
holding  her  responsible  for  the  loss  of  our  best 
friend." 

"Kerr.  But  how  unjust  that  is;  and  it  is  unlike 
you  to  be  unjust." 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it." 

"  But  wait ;  when  you  say  you  hold  her  responsible 
for  the  loss  of  our  old  friend,  do  you  forget  that  we 
agreed  that  she  must  have  told  him  the  truth.  They 
left  this  place  on  the  same  day — I  am  convinced  that 
he  followed  her ;  and  we  have  heard  nothing  of  either 
of  them  ever  since — more  than  six  months  ago." 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"There  have  been  times  when  I  have  been  in  fear 
lest  he  took  her  abroad — married  her  there  .  .  ." 

"  No  ;  she  has  been  in  England,  in  London,  all  the 
time.  I  know  that  now.  So  you  see  it  must  have 
been  the  truth  which  parted  them,  and,  oh !  Gren,  be 
just — she  must  have  been  greatly  brave  to  tell  it — I 
am  certain  she  knew  /  would  never  betray  her."  t 

"You  are  right — she  was  greatly  brave — rarely 
honest" 

"And  sometimes  I  think  he  might  not  have  left  her 
— he  might  have  forgiven;  but  of  course  we  do  not 
know  all.  He  has  returned  .  .  ." 

"  Returned  1  You  mean  that  Kerr  is  back  in 
England  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  Dolly  Herbertson  saw  him  last  evening. 
She  told  me  when  she  got  home.  He  asked  where  I 
could  be  found,  and  she  let  him  know  I  am  returning 
to  town  to-night  That  is  why  I  wanted  to  be  sure 
of  seeing  you  first" 

"  Good  heavens !     I'm  very  glad,  though." 

"Gren,  what  if  he  has  come  back  to  find  her? 
The  idea  got  into  my  head  in  the  night,  and  I  cannot 
get  it  out." 

"Is  it  likely?" 

"  It  is  not  impossible.  I  know  how  Kerr  would 
love.  It  may  be  that  he  has  found  life  impossible 
without  her.  And  oh,  if  that  is  so,  when  he  knows 
all  there  is  to  know  .  .  ." 

"  What  is  it  ?  What  is  it  you  have  heard  about  her, 
Pat?"  Delmar  inquired  with  interest  real  enough  now, 
and  keen  anxiety.  Pat  was  not  a  woman  to  make  a 
sensation  out  of  nothing ;  it  was  plain  to  him  that  she 
was  very  agitated. 

"First  and  worst,  that — he  has  got  her  into  his 
clutches  again." 

•34 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  Brabazon,  you  mean  ? "  Delmar  said  with  closed 
teeth,  with  suddenly  paling  face.  Then  he  gave  his 
shoulders  a  great  shake,  and  got  up  to  take  several 
steps  up  and  down  the  room. 

"That  being  so,  do  you  think  it  worth  while  to 
trouble  about  her,  Pat  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him  reproachfully,  and  getting  up 
too,  stopped  him  in  his  restless  walk. 

"But  how  on  earth  did  you  come  to  know  of — 
these  people  ?  "  he  inquired,  with  evident  annoyance. 

"  I'll  tell  you  if  you'll  listen,  and  just  won't  harden 
your  heart  against  her.  If  ever  she  did  harm,  she  has 
been  punished  for  it  in  these  few  months.  You  know 
Valdor — the  artist  ?  Well,  it  was  through  him  I  first 
heard  of  her,  through  him  I  traced  her  life  over  the 
days  since  she  left  here.  Heaven  knows  what  befell 
her  in  the  beginning,  but  she  went  to  the  home  of 
some  young  artists  whom  she  had  known  in  her 
father's  time,  went  there  in  want,  and  very  evidently 
in  misery.  She  stayed  to  share  with  them  their  home 
and  their  work,  and  in  a  way  to  keep  house  for  them 
— such  a  keep  as  it  must  have  needed.  Valdor  told 
me — he  can  colour  a  story  well.  She  was  his  model, 
but  that  was  not  the  worst ;  she  came  down  to  sitting 
for  men  that,  when  Valdor  heard  of  it,  he  employed 
her  when  he  did  not  want  her  to  prevent  her  going  to 
them.  What  she  must  have  gone  through  I  —  I 
cannot  bear  to  go  over ;  and  then  a  stroke  of  good 
fortune  fell  upon  this  new  composer — Dunbar — you 
remember  ?  who  made  such  a  hit  with  those  songs  ot 
Ellison's.  I  learned  that  it  was  —  Cuthbert  who 
launched  Dunbar,  Cuthbert  who  first  discovered  those 
young  fellows  and  Valerie  Drummond  through  Valdor. 
I — I  don't  understand  it  all,  but  I  know  from  what 
she  said  to  me  that  day — here,  that  she  had  cut  her 


NOR  ALL  YOUK  TEAKS 


own  life  purposely,  that  she  had  made  the  effort  to 
escape  it  and  him.  You  know,  as  I  do,  that  the  mere 
fact  of  a  woman's  trying  to  escape  him  would  make 
him  the  more  determined  that  she  should  not" 

"  And  now  ? "  Delmar  began,  "  You  said 
that n 

"  And  now  she  is  with  him,  to  be  seen  with  him. 
They  tell  me  that  she  is  the  ghost  of  herself,  that  the 
doctors  hold  out  little  hope  of  her  recovery." 

"  She  is  ill,  then  ?  " 

"She  goes  about  She  lives  a  little  way  out  of 
town,  and  Cuthbert  is  the  only  creature  she  ever  sees. 
I've  indisputable  proof  of  all  this — you  know  how 
many  there  have  ever  been  who  are  glad  to  bring 
such  stories  to  me.  From  what  Valdor  says,  it  seems 
that  her  companions — young  Dunbar  and  his  friends 
— when  they  knew,  gave  her  the  cold  shoulder.  It 
seemed  to  me  it  was  rather  giving  themselves  airs, 
but  how  much  more  there  may  be  behind  it  all  I 
cannot  tell  The  point  is  this,  Cuthbert  does  not 
flaunt  her  in  the  face  of  the  world  as  is  his  usual 
custom  with  the  ladies  of  his  fancy.  I'm  convinced 
that,  whatever  she  has  done,  she  has  been  driven  into  ; 
and  now  that  Kerr  has  returned,  I  would  not  have 
him  hear  of  her  for  a  kingdom." 

"  My  dear  little  girl,"  Delmar  said  gravely,  "  your 
tender  heart  will  lead  you  into  no  end  of  unhappiness 
for  others.  I  beg  of  you,  don't  think  it  mere  injustice, 
prejudice  on  my  part,  and  do  believe  me  when  I  tell 
you  that  I  am  certain  these  people  are  not  worth  one 
of  your  sweet  thoughts.  We  don't  know  what 
happened  so  far  as  she  and  Kerr  were  concerned,  but 
if  she  told  him  the  truth,  which  I  think  likely,  I 
honour  her  for  it — it  is  one  to  her  good  at  all  events ; 
but  now,  what  can  you  do  ?  I  don't  think  with  you 

236 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


that  Kerr  has  come  back  with  that  woman  in  his 
mind,  and  if  he  has,  surely  the  best  thing  for  him  will 
be  his  utter  disenchantment" 

"  But  for  her  ?  Gren,  I  tell  you  that  a  good  man's 
love,  such  a  life  as  she  might  have  led  with  him.  would 
have  been  more  than  the  saving  of  her — it " 

"  It  would  have  been  the  ruin  of  him — and  he 
comes  first  in  my  mind." 

"  Is  that  how  you  would  think  if  I " 

"I  forbid  you  to  speak  of  yourself  in  the  same 
breath  with  them — I  won't  listen  to  you.  Dear,  be 
reasonable,"  taking  her  hands  and  studying  her  little 
determined  face  with  anxiety.  "  What  can  you  do  ? 
Nothing." 

"  I  can — I'm  going  to.     I'm  going  to  Cuthbert" 

He  dropped  her  hands  as  though  they  had  burnt 
him. 

"What!" 

"  I'm  going  to  Cuthbert  I  don't  know  how  I'm 
going  to  manage,  but  I'm  going  to  get  the  truth  from 
him  somehow.  And  if  not,  I'm  going  to  her;  and  if 
she'll  let  me,  I'll  protect  her  from  him  anyhow." 

"  Pat,  you're  mad ! " 

M  I'm  not  I'm  so  sure  of  the  girl  and  of  my  own 
convictions.  Oh,  Gren,"  resting  both  hands  on  his 
shoulders,  "this  is  the  one  moment  in  all  our  lives 
since  we  first  met  when  you  have  not  seen  with  me 
as  I  see,  when  I  have  not  your  sympathy  and  your 
comprehension." 

"  I  confess  it  God  knows  that  I  would  rather  do 
anything,  give  any  possession,  than  that  it  should  be 
so,  than  that  it  should  be  possible ;  but  I  cannot 
deny  it  You  are  going  on  supposition  almost 
entirely,  on  a  story  highly  coloured  and  exaggerated, 
perhaps,  on  your  intense  sympathy  and  sweet  good- 

*37 


NOR  ALL  YOUE  TEARS 


nature,  and  on  your  desire  to  right  a  wrong  with 
which  you'll  get  no  thanks  for  meddling.  I  cannot 
prevent  you  from  going  to  your — husband,"  with 
bitter  intonation,  and  the  nearest  approach  to  anger 
he  had  ever  shown  her,  "to  a  man  who  has  already 
heaped  upon  you  every  insult  it  is  possible  for  a  man 
to  offer  a  woman ;  but  I  can  and  do  entreat  you  to 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  woman  or  her  set  You 
will  promise  me  that,  Pat  ?  " 

K  And  you  will  be  very  angry  with  me  if  I  do  not  ?  " 
she  asked  wistfully. 

"  I  cannot  be  angry  with  you.  You  know  it  well. 
All  you  are  and  do  and  say  seems  good  and  right 
and  wise  in  my  eyes,  but  not  this.  It  is  folly,  the 
worst  folly." 

"  Listen,  Gren.  I  won't  do  anything  that  I  think 
you  would  not  like;  but  you  will  let  me  try— 
you " 

He  made  an  impatient  gesture,  but  he  did  not 
answer.  It  was  so  impossible  to  him  to  seem  to 
thwart  her  wishes  in  any  way,  and,  added  to  that,  he 
knew  that  she  was  so  wise  generally,  and  so  far- 
seeing.  It  was  seldom  that  Pat  made  mistakes,  and 
never  had  he  known  her  to  act  rashly,  foolishly,  on 
impulse.  He  felt  that  she  was  utterly  wrong  now, 
and  yet  he  felt,  too,  that  she  was  not  the  woman 
to  make  so  great  a  mistake  as  this  seemed  in  his 
eyes. 

"  I  give  in  to  you,"  he  said,  with  the  very  faintest 
weariness.  "  I'm  weak  as  water  in  your  hands,  as 
you  know."  Then  hurriedly, "  You  are  going  to  town 
now.  You  were  on  your  way.  When  shall  you  see 
Kerr?" 

"Very  soon.  I  gathered  from  the  manner  in 
which  he  inquired  about  me  that  he  rather  wants 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 
«  * 

to  see  me.  You  are  not  able  to  come  up  for  a  day 
or  two  ?  " 

She  asked  the  question  a  little  quickly.  She 
would  not  let  him  know  how  more  than  easy  she 
would  have  been  in  mind  had  he  been  nearer  at 
hand  than  in  his  home. 

"  I  wish  it  were  possible.  But,  Pat,  you  are  to 
remember  that  if  you  need  me — if  you  want  my 
help " 

" You  anticipate  my  getting  into  mischief!  Gren, 
I  must  go.  Tell  me  I  have  not  vexed  you  much." 

"Not  at  all.  Believe  it  You  don't  understand, 
dear.  It  is  only  that  always  I  think  of  you  first, 
of  what  is  best  for  you." 

"Don't  I  know  it?" 

"  I  hope  you  do — well,  and  that  makes  me  anxious, 
foolishly  anxious,  perhaps." 

"  And  you're  not  vexed  or — Gren,  say  it" 

He  dropped  her  coat  which  he  had  been  holding 
out ;  he  put  both  his  arms  round  her  instead. 

"Pat,  when  you  plead  with  me  you  break  down 
barriers,  you  make  me  lose  my  grip  on  all  you  have 
taught  me  to  remember.  You  don't  mean  it,  but 
you  become  my  tempter  ..." 

"  Forgive  me !     Dear,  forgive  me !  * 

"Everything,  except  your  determination  to  doom 
me  to  this  life  that  is  not  life  at  all !  There,  you 
must  forgive  me  nowl  Must  I  let  you  go?  Till 
we  meet  again,  then." 

She  was  very  pale ;  he  had  released  her,  and  she 
stood  with  one  hand  on  the  table.  Her  dark  gown 
threw  up  every  bewitching  tint  of  skin,  and  hair,  and 
eyes*  Delmar  put  on  her  coat  and  went  half  way 
to  the  door.  He  came  back  to  her  in  one  quick  step. 

"Say  something  to  me — something  to  keep  me 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


company  through  this  hateful  night.  I  swear  not 
to  take  advantage  of  it,  to  seek  to  alter  your 
determination." 

She  thought  of  all  his  weary  life — she  measured 
it  by  her  own ;  and  she  went  to  him  and  framed 
his  face  in  both  her  hands. 

"You  want  no  words  from  me,"  she  whispered. 
M  You  know.  Try  to  live  in  that  sweetest  knowledge, 
as  I  live." 

"  Say  it— this  once,  Pat." 

"  The  knowledge  of  my  love ! " 

The  words  were  faint,  but  they  reached  him. 
With  a  low,  hoarse  murmur  he  wound  his  arms 
about  her  again,  and  bent  down  his  face  till  it 
was  hidden  on  her  breast 

"The  knowledge  of  your  love.    My  heart's  dearest! " 

He  held  her  lips  to  his  with  a  long  sigh,  and  took 
the  flowers  she  was  wearing. 

A  moment  later  he  was  putting  her  into  her 
carriage  with  a  laugh  that  sounded  light,  and  a  few 
words  about  her  journey  that  sounded  indifferently 
polite. 

And  Pat  leant  back  in  her  corner  and  closed  her 
eyes,  and  felt  again  the  pressure  of  his  fond  arms 
and  his  kisses  on  her  lips. 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


•m      JiT 

VI 

JL  V  JL 


XXIV 
R    WINGATE,    madam.     I    said    that 


"  Oh,  I  will  see  Mr  Wingate,  Arnold, 
but  no  one   else,"   Pat   Brabazon    in- 
terrupted  the   maid  quickly.      "  He    has   not  gone 
away  ?  " 

"  No,  madam." 

"  Very  well,  say  I  will  come  down  at  once." 

It  was  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day,  and  Pat 
was  putting  the  finishing  touches  to  her  toilet, 
preparatory  to  going  out  upon  an  errand  that  was 
not  altogether  to  her  taste,  and  one  about  which 
she  was  not  very  happy.  She  threw  her  hat  and 
gloves  down,  and  turned  to  her  own  maid. 

"Telephone  to  the  stable  and  say  Roberts  need 
not  come  round  for  half  an  hour.  I  can't  have  the 
horses  standing  in  this  rain." 

Then  she  went  down  the  stairs  slowly,  looking 
through  the  hall  windows  as  she  went,  at  the  gloomy 
backs  of  dull  houses  that  seemed  still  more  gloomy 
under  a  darkened  sky  and  in  a  downpour  of  rain.  She 
was  in  her  own  charming  little  house  that  held  no 
charm  for  her,  in  the  house  that  she  never  occupied 
except  when  it  was  absolutely  necessary. 

She  found  Wingate  walking  about  in  the  drawing- 
room,  so  changed  in  appearance  that  she  could 
hardly  repress  a  little  exclamation  of  mingled 
surprise  and  alarm. 

141  o 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"This  is  very  good  of  you,  Pat,"  he  said,  taking 
both  her  hands  closely  in  his,  "I  am  afraid  I " 

"  Nonsense !  You  knew  I  should  see  you  ;  but 
I  was  not  going  to  be  at  home  to  the  army  that 
generally  find  me  out  directly  I  come  to  town.  You 
met  Dolly  the  night  before  last — she  said  you  were 
asking  for  me.  Kerr,  what  have  you  been  doing  ? 
What  has  changed  you  like  this  ?  " 

He  laughed,  without  mirth,  with  a  new  ring  of 
bitterness  in  the  laugh. 

"  Don't  ask  me,  Pat  I  hardly  know  what  I  have 
or  have  not  done  during  these  last  six  months.  I 
know  I've  not  succeeded  in  the  one  thing  I  meant 
to  do — in  forgetting — in  living  down  a  memory." 

"  Tell  me  about  it,"  she  said,  with  sweet  sympathy, 
drawing  her  hands  from  his  and  pointing  to  a  chair. 
"  Kerr,  do  you  realise  that  all  this  time  has  gone 
since  you  left  us  without,  or  almost  without,  a  word, 
and  that  you  have  kept  silence  to  us  ever  since? 
You  might  have  sent  a  line  to  Gren  or  me.  I'm 
so  glad  you  came  to  see  me.  I  wonder  if  you  will 
be  angry  if  I  tell  you  that  when  I  have  thought  upon 
your  prolonged  absence,  I  have  also  thought  that  I 
knew  something  of  the  reason  for  it  ?  " 

"  You,  Pat  ?  At  this  moment  I  almost  hope  you 
may  be  right" 

"  I  have  thought  it — and  that  I  might  have  guessed 
the  reason  for  your  sudden  return.  I  have  presenti- 
ments sometimes — and  I'm  rarely  wrong.  Kerr, 
did  you  go  away  because — because  of  Valerie 
Drummond  ?" 

She  kept  her  eyes  on  his  face  while  she  asked  the 
question,  though  she  saw  that  he  went  very  white, 
that  the  lines  about  his  mouth  grew  drawn  and  hard 
as  if  with  pain. 

242 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  Yes ;  fool  that  I  was !  Pat,"  catching  at  her 
hand  again,  and  leaning  towards  her  eagerly,  "you 
have  seen  her — you  know  where  I  can  find  her  ?  I 
came  to  you,  though  you  might  be  an  unlikely 
person,  because  no  one  else  can  tell  me  of  her." 

It  was  Pat's  turn  to  go  a  little  white  now,  and  then 
to  feel  the  colour  mounting  to  her  cheeks. 

"  Then  I  was  right,"  she  cried  as  eagerly ;  "  you 
have  come  back  to  find  her?  Oh,  Kerr!  why  did 
you  ever  leave  her  ? " 

"  Answer  me  this  first — do  you  know  where  she  is 
— can  you  tell  me  ?  " 

And  Pat,  feeling  that  for  a  time  at  least  she  must 
keep  such  knowledge  as  was  hers  to  herself,  answered 
deliberately — 

"  No." 

Wingate  threw  himself  back  in  the  chair  with  a  sigh 
that  was  like  a  groan. 

"  Pat,"  he  said  presently,  "  to  you  of  all  people  it  is 
hardest  to  say  why — I  left  her." 

"  And  if  I  know,  Kerr " 

"If  you  know,  then  you  have  seen  her — you  do 
know — you  could  not  have  heard  except  from  her 
own  lips !  For  God's  sake,  Pat,  tell  me  that  she  is 
alive — well." 

"  She  is  alive — I  know  that ;  but  I  do  not  think  it 
is  very  well  with  her.  Wait — I  have  never  seen  her  or 
spoken  with  her  since  that  day  at  Delrnar  when  I  said 
I  would  drive  her  home.  I  did  not — I  took  her  with 
me  to  Dolly  Herbertson's.  But  I  had  recognised  her, 
and  she  knew  my  name  all  too  well." 

Wingate  dropped  his  face  in  his  hands  as  though 
he  could  not  bear  the  steady  glance  of  those  clear 
sweet  eyes  that  were  bent  gravely,  he  thought 
a  little  reproachfully,  upon  him  ;  and  Pat  repeated 

243 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


all  that  had  passed  between  her  and  Valerie  on  that 
day — repeated  it  without  missing  a  point  that  would 
tell  in  the  girl's  favour,  with,  unconsciously,  a  word 
here  and  there  which  was  like  a  stab  to  Wingate's 
heart,  which  made  regret  and  remorse  and  bitter 
self-condemnation  almost  unendurable. 

"  She  told  me  all  that  I  have  told  you,"  she  said 
presently — "  it  may  be  that  she  told  you  more ;  but  no 
one,  man  or  woman,  with  a  grain  of  sense,  ever  looked 
into  that  girl's  eyes  and  read  a  wanton,  deliberate  lie. 
From  my  soul  I  pitied  her,  in  my  heart  I  would  have 
trusted  her  implicitly :  you  know  as  well  as  I  that  the 
woman  who  has  been  his  victim  never  had  a  chance. 
I  had  guessed  that  you  loved  her,  Kerr ;  and  when 
she  told  me  that  she  wished  me  and  all  my  friends  to 
forget  her,  I  knew  that  she  meant  to  leave  Dale  and 
to  escape  from  you.  You  remember  that  we  saw 
nothing  of  her  after,  and  I  had  to  go  away.  I  did 
hear  that  you  and  she  had  left  the  place  on  the  same 
day ;  and  oh,  when  you  disappeared,  and  she  too,  do 
you  know  that  my  hope  was  that  you  had  taken  her 
to  another  country  ..." 

"  Wait — wait !  "  Wingate  entreated,  putting  up  one 
hand  to  implore  silence.  "  I  have  condemned  and 
hated  myself  so  long,  I  have  thought  of  myself  as  the 
greatest  brute  under  heaven,  and  now  you  make  me 
understand  that  I  have  been  worse  than  that — I  have 
been  a  coward  to  the  woman  to  whom  every  beat  of 
my  heart  belongs." 

"  She  told  you  the  truth,  Kerr  ?  " 

"  She  told  me  the  truth." 

"And  not  even  that  could  win  her  your  forgive- 
ness ?  " 

"  It  was  not  a  question  of  pardon.  I  tell  you  that 
I  have  realised  since  that  I  was  a  coward ;  it  was  fear 


NOR  ALL  YOUR,  TEARS 


— fear  of  memory.  I  knew  that  life  would  be  a  hell 
for  us  both,  because,  never  could  I  forget!  Now  I 
know,"  his  voice  sinking  to  a  tone  of  helpless  misery, 
"that  it  had  been  better  to  live  in  the  hell  of  that 
memory,  than  in  the  agony  of  longing,  the  never 
ending  craving  .  .  .  oh,  why  do  I  talk  to  you  like 
this  ?  "  he  broke  off  abruptly,  a  little  tinge  of  shamed 
red  spreading  over  his  dark,  colourless  face.  "  Why 
are  you  the  only  person  to  whom  I  ever  open  my 
heart  or " 

"  Because  you  know  how  much  I  feel  for  you,  dear 
old  friend  ;  you  know  how  well  I  comprehend." 

He  closed  his  fingers  over  her  little  hand  in  silent 
thanks. 

"All  this  is" — he  said  after  a  little  while, — "was 
very  painful  to  you,  Pat." 

"  For  your  sake — for  hers,  yes.  But  you  are 
thinking  of  Cuthbert.  My  dear  Kerr,  except  when 
some  of  his  villainies  come  home  to  me  through  any 
of  my  friends,  I  simply  do  not  remember  that  he 
exists,"  with  a  little  tip  tilting  of  her  perfect,  ex- 
pressive nose. 

"Valerie — did  not  once  mention  his  name,"  he 
said  suddenly,  with  evident  difficulty.  "  Nothing  but 
the  bare  truth  passed  her  lips  to  me.  An  accident 
told  me  who  was  responsible  for  the  ruin  of  her  life." 

"  And  you  ?  " 

"I — lost  my  head  a  little.  I  think  that  to  have 
left  her  would  have  been  altogether  impossible  but 
for  that  accident  It  shook  all  the  faith  I  had,  it 
roused  new  doubt,  it — it — heaven  forgive  me,  it 
placed  her  in  another  light  in  my  eyes  for  the 
moment ;  it  robbed  me  of  reason  and  swept  aside  all 
the  justice  in  me.  I  never  heard  her  whole  story — I 
don't  suppose  I  could  have  listened  in  the  frame  of 

»4S 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


mind  I  was  in  then.  She  was  so  careful  to  con- 
demn herself  alone,  to  raise  the  barrier  which  she 
had  built  between  us,  and  to  spare  all  others.  I 
see  it  now — it  shames  me  bitterly — but  I  would 
not  see  it  then." 

"  I  knew  she  could  be  very  loyal,"  put  in  Pat,  with 
her  eyes  on  his. 

"God  bless  you  for  your  trust  in  her — for  your 
kindly  words  of  her,"  he  said,  bringing  his  hands 
gently  yet  heavily  on  her  shoulders. 

"  I  did  not  mean  to — say  all  this  to  you.  I  never 
dreamed  that  you  knew  and  guessed  so  much.  I — 
life  is  not  life  without  her,  and  though  I  have  fought 
against  that  knowledge,  it  has  gained  the  upper-hand 
at  last  I  came  home  to  find  her.  Her  servant — her 
former  servants — know  nothing.  I  believe  they 
speak  the  truth,  because  they  seem  genuinely  upset 
and  anxious  about  her — no  one  knows  anything.  I 
don't  know  why  I  should  have  thought  you  might" 

"  I  have  thought  of  her  and  you  a  great  deal. 
I  wish  you  had  not  gone  away,  because  we  should 
have  been  sure  to  speak  of  this,  and — and — things 
might  have  been  different  I — I — did  hear  very 
vaguely  of  her  once  .  .  ." 

"  That  it  was  not  well  with  her,"  swiftly. 

"Yes." 

"  Are  you  hiding  anything  from  me,  Pat  ? " 

Pat  kept  her  tell-tale  eyes  lowered  while  she 
answered,  "  No."  Then,  nervously,  she  added  :  "  She 
had  no  one  but  those  old  ladies,  who  were  not  likely 
to  sympathise;  her  life  from  infancy  had  evidently 
not  been  a  sheltered  one.  She — went  through  hard 
times,  and  I  think  she — became  a  model.  I  wonder," 
said  Pat,  dreamily,  a  little  irrelevantly,  but  with 
quaint  curiosity,  "why  men  are  so  cruelly  unjust  to 

(46 


NOB,  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 


us — always — even  where  they  love  greatly?  Why 
are  they,  whose  sins  are  almost  all  committed 
against  women,  so  incapable  of  leniency,  of  common 
justice?  There  are  many  through  whom  a  woman 
sinks  to  the  lowest  depths ;  there  are  none  who 
will  hold  out  a  hand  to  lift  that  woman  up.  I  said 
to  Valerie  Drummond,  '  Don't  coast  downhill  because 
you  think  all  the  world  is  against  you.'  But  what 
could  she  think,  what  did  anything  matter  when 
the  one  soul  who  loved  her,  and  whom  she  loved, 
the  only  creature  who  could  have  lifted  her  up,  or 
saved  her,  turned  away  because  he  had  not  courage 
to  help  her  live  down  the  past,  and  because  he 
feared,  not  for  her,  but  for  himself — the  future  ?  " 

"  Every  word  you  utter  is  just  and  true,"  Wingate 
said.  "  I  have  admitted  it — I  was  a  coward.  No 
regret  can  help  her  or  me,  no  remorse  can  wipe  out 
these  six  months.  I  deserve  your  contempt,  Pat 
If  it  is  not  too  deep  for  me,  can — will  you  not  try 
to  help  me  find  her  now  ?  Can  love  come  too  late  ? 
At  least  help  me  to  think  that  it  may  not — this 
once." 

"I  was  a  brute  to  you — forgive  me,  Kerr,"  Pat 
said  hastily,  while  the  great  tears  that  had  gathered 
in  her  eyes  fell  down  her  cheeks.  "You  must  let 
me  think  a  little.  You  must  leave  me  now,  and — 
and — come  to  me  the  moment  I  send  for  you.  I — 
I — may  be  able  to  help  you,  but  at  present  it  is  not 
certain.  Will  you  hold  yourself  in  readiness  to  come 
to  me  at  a  moment's  notice,  wherever  I  may  be  ?  " 

"  Of  course." 

"  And  I  can  find  you ?  " 

"  At  my  old  rooms — I  never  go  anywhere  else." 

"  Good !  I  am  so  glad  to  have  seen  you  and 
talked  like  this  with  you.  Good-bye  for  the  present." 

247 


NOE  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 


Directly  she  was  alone  she  ordered  the  carriage 
to  come  round  at  once. 

"  The  idea  I  got  into  my  head  was  the  right  one 
after  all,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  He  has  come  back 
to  her.  It  cannot — it  shall  not  be  too  late.  Whatever 
happens,  he  must  not  know." 

Then,  with  her  heart  beating  heavily  and  her 
hands  trembling  with  excitement,  she  got  into  her 
carriage,  and  gave  the  address  of  her  husband's 
rooms  in  Knightsbridge. 


NOB  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 


XXV 

THE  rain  poured  down  steadily.  As  Pat 
drove  beneath  the  arch  that  led  to  the 
courtyard  overlooking  which  were  her 
husband's  rooms,  it  made  a  small  river 
which  men  were  sweeping  rapidly  away  with  great 
brooms.  She  passed  into  the  hall  with  an  un- 
consciously haughty  air,  and  when  the  lift  boy 
inquired  where  she  would  be  taken,  she  made  no 
reply,  but  put  out  a  detaining  hand  as  they  reached 
the  floor  she  wanted. 

The  bell-push  might  have  been  sticky  from  the 
way  she  touched  it ;  and  when  Lessing  appeared  she 
merely  said,  "  Tell  your  master  at  once,"  and  picked 
her  way  through  the  hall  with  slightly  uplifted  skirts, 
as  she  would  have  picked  it  through  the  mire  of  the 
streets. 

Brabazon  came  to  her  at  once,  and  it  was  plain 
from  his  surprised  face  that  a  visit  so  totally  un- 
expected robbed  him  momentarily  of  speech  and 
breath. 

"  You ! "  he  said  at  last,  and  with  a  swift,  rather 
nervous  glance  round. 

"Your  servant  must  have  given  my  name — he 
knows  me." 

"  He  did.  But — well,  with  Lessing,  it's  a  sort  of 
courtesy  title — up  here." 

Pat  bit  her  lip.  Her  feet  almost  took  her  instantly 
249 


NOK  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 


to  the  door,  but  she  remembered,  and  remained 
by  the  flower-filled  fireplace. 

"To  what  am  I  indebted,  etc.,"  Brabazon  added 
in  a  moment.  "Won't  you  sit  down,  Pat?  That 
window  chair  is  a  very  comfortable  one.  May  I 
order  you  tea — you  so  rarely  honour  me  ..." 

"  Nothing — and  I  don't  want  to  sit  down." 

Her  husband  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  was 
taking  in  every  detail  of  her  beauty,  her  perfect  style, 
her  every  grace  of  movement,  and  her  exquisite 
toilette,  and  asking  himself  why  it  was  that  he  never 
could  do  much  more  than  merely  admire  her. 

"  You're  looking  very  lovely,  Pat" 

"Which  is  no  business  of  yours.  I  did  not  come 
up  here  to  hear  it." 

"  No,  but  you  came  here — of  your  own  accord. 
Now,  ladies  who  do  that  are  prepared  to  be  very 
sweet  to  me  ..." 

Pat  gave  him  one  look  which  had  the  effect  of  the 
lash  upon  a  cur;  the  next  moment  Brabazon  was 
laughing  softly,  but  his  face  was  tinged  with  dusky 
red. 

"  I  came  to  ask  you  this — what  have  you  done 
with  Valerie  Drummond?" 

"Whew !  Good  Lord  1  I  say,  Pat,"  sinking  into  a 
chair  languidly,  and  throwing  into  his  voice  a  touch 
of  real  pathos,  "yovtre  not  going  to  start  on  a  new 
tack?" 

"  I  asked  you  a  simple  question  for  no  other 
reason  than  that  I  want  to  know — answer  me, 
please." 

"  What  do  you  know  about  the  Drummond  girl  ? " 

Pat  made  a  gesture  of  suppressed  rage. 

"  I  know  that  you  ruined  her  life  in  the  beginning, 
and  that  you've  contrived  to  get  her  into  your  power 

250 


NOB  ALL  YOUE  TEAES 


again  after  she  once  escaped  you.  I  can  find  her  with 
time  and  trouble,  but  I  want  to  save  that,  and  so  I 
ask  you  " 

"  You're  a  most  amazing  woman." 

"  Will  you  tell  me  ? " 

"  Not  off  hand.  I  must  know  more  of  your  reasons 
for  wishing  to  find  the  girl.  Besides,  how  do  you 
know  I  can  tell  you  ?  " 

"  Cuthbert,"  she  said,  coming  a  very  little  nearer  to 
him,  "we  have  never  been  even  the  merest  friends. 
You  have  openly  insulted  me,  and  I  as  openly  despised 
you.  I  certainly  have  never  asked  you  a  favour — 
I'm  going  to  ask  you  one  to-day,  and  since  it  is  the 
first,  and  you  owe  me  much,  you  might  grant  it." 
Brabazon  got  out  of  the  chair  and  bowed ;  then  he 
remained  standing,  and  greatly  wondering.  "  I  want 
you  to  tell  me  where  you  are  hiding  Valerie 
Drummond ;  and  I  tell  you  frankly  that  I  want  to 
know,  that  I  may  go  to  her.  I  met  her  once,  and 
I  pitied  her  desperately,  because  she  was  one  of 
your  victims.  At  that  time  the  chance  of  a  new 
life  and  a  happy  one  was  opening  to  her,  but  fate 
was  against  her.  I'll  stake  my  life  that,  having 
ruined  hers,  you  cared  little  what  became  of  her. 
I'm  positive  in  my  mind,  if  I  know  you  at  all,  that 
simply  because  she  made  the  effort  to  escape  you, 
you  left  no  stone  unturned  till  you  found  her,  and 
got  her  once  more  into  your  power." 

"  In  a  great  deal  of  what  you  say  you  are  perfectly 
right,"  he  admitted,  with  a  fine  smile. 

He  was  casting  his  memory  swiftly  back  to  the 
past,  and  clearing  up  one  or  two  little  mysteries 
which  had  slightly  baffled  him. 

"  But  you  are  not  in  love  with  her — she  holds  no 
charm  for  you  now  ?  " 

251 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


This  time  he  laughed  aloud,  but  he  bowed  again, 
and  looked  at  her  very  hard  and  curiously. 

"Your  powers  of  discernment  do  you  infinite 
credit,  Pat" 

"  That  means  that  I  am  right  I  want  to  separate 
her  life  from  yours — in  plain  words,  I  want  you 
to  let  her  go." 

"  I  wish  you'd  sit  down,  Pat  I  must  stand  while 
you  do,  and,  upon  my  word,  I'm  limp  with  amaze- 
ment" 

"You  need  not  be,"  returned  Pat,  sitting  on  the 
edge  of  the  window  sill,  while  Brabazon  threw  himself 
down  with  a  grateful  murmur  into  the  nearest  and 
most  comfortable  chair.  "What  you  have  said 
amounts  to  telling  me  that  I  am  right  Why  don't 
you  answer  me  frankly  ?  " 

"  I  will ;  but  first — what  if  she  should  not  be 
willing  to  be  '  let  go '  ?  What  if  life  has  dealt  hardly 
with  her  and  her  health?  If  she  is  alone  and  utterly 
without  means  of  any  sort  ? " 

"  She  won't  be  when  once  I  have  seen  her,  when 
she  is  under  my  care." 

"  You  are  posing  in  a  new  role,  Pat — dressing  the 
Good  Samaritan  for  a  new  part  ..." 

"  You  said  you  would  answer  me  frankly — go  on." 

Brabazon  sat  up  to  dive  into  his  coat  pocket  for 
a  cigarette  case. 

"  May  I  smoke  ?  "  he  asked.    "  Will  you  ?  " 

"  No  ;  you  may." 

"  Do  let  me  order  you  some  tea." 

Pat's  temper  was  rising,  but  she  held  it  under  with 
iron  will.  She  would  gain  nothing  with  this  man 
by  anger  ;  and  already  tears  of  vexation,  tears  born 
of  fear  that  she  would  be  baffled,  were  standing  in 
her  eyes.  He  did  not  notice  them.  If  he  had,  he 

252 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


would  have  decided  that  women  always  cried  when 
they  did  not  get  their  own  way  at  once. 

"  I  want  only  your  answer,"  she  persisted. 

"  You  are  a  very  wilful  little  woman,  Pat ;  and  if 
I  tell  you  some  things  that  you  don't  like  to  hear, 
don't  blame  me.  One's  wife  is  hardly  the  person 
with  whom  ..." 

"  Your  wife  you  may  safely  regard  as  the  greatest 
of  strangers." 

Brabazon's  answer  was  to  smile,  and  to  settle 
himself  more  comfortably  in  his  chair. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said.  "  You  say  you  have  met 
her  and  heard  her  story." 

"  Only  part  of  it" 

"  That  part  which  paints  me  blackest  You  know 
that  she  attempted  escape  from  her  mode  of  life  at 
the  moment,  and — from  me.  Escape  is  the  word 
you  used — perhaps  she  taught  it  you — why,  I  cannot 
imagine.  I  take  it  that  not  long  after  that  '  escape ' 
was  effected,  she  met  with  a  man  who  would  have 
married  her,  but  that  she  was  absurdly  and  quite 
unnecessarily  truthful  concerning — the  past.  That 
sort  of  thing  may  be  very  admirable  and  honourable, 
but  it  does  not  pay — a  woman.  Mind  you,  I  do 
not  know  this,  she,  no  one  has  ever  actually  told  me, 
but  certain  things  happened  which  led  me  to  putting 
two  and  two  together,  and  making  fifty  like  any 
feminine  arithmetician.  Added  to  that,  one  day, 
about  six  months  ago  now,  a  man  you  and  I  both 
know,  met  me  unexpectedly.  He  behaved  deucedly 
badly — in  the  meanest  and  worst  taste,  by  worming 
his  way  into  my  rooms — these — and  attacking  me 
on  the  same  subject  as  you  have  attacked  me 
to-day " 

"  Valerie  Drummond  ?  "  Pat  broke  in  breathlessly. 
253 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"Valerie  Drummond.  The  upshot  of  it  was  that 
he  took  me  at  a  disadvantage,  got  the  better 
of  me " 

"You  mean  he  thrashed  you,"  said  Pat  uncom- 
promisingly, and  with  so  much  real  interest  that  at 
another  moment  Brabazon  would  have  laughed. 

"  If  you  like  to  put  it  in  those  words — yes." 

"  His  name  ?  " 

"  Kerr  Wingate." 

"  Ah  !  "  It  was  only  one  sharply  whispered  word, 
but  as  it  left  Pat's  parted  lips,  it  seemed  to  find  a 
strange  echo  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  room,  an  echo 
that  startled  them  both  into  looking  up. 

"You  see,"  Brabazon  went  on,  "he  gave  me  no 
chance — he  did  not  let  me  take  my  revenge  at  the 
moment,  he  sneaked  away  like  a  coward  when  I  was 
powerless  to  prevent  him.  But  he  had  opened  my 
eyes  concerning  the  lady,  and  I  knew  when  I  found 
her  that  I'd  make  a  harder  blow  go  home  to  his  heart, 
if  he  cared  for  her,  than  he'd  ever  made  go  home  to 
my  flesh. 

"  I  did  find  her — not  without  a  lot  of  trouble ;  I 
found  her  in  failing  health,  in  the  worst  sort  of  poverty, 
dragging  out  an  existence  in  company  with  some 
young  workers  she  had  known  in  her  father's  time. 
She  stuck  to  her  guns  for  a  bit,  I  admit;  she  lived  in 
her  squalid  den,  and  sat  half  naked  in  draughts  and 
bitterly  cold  studios  to  Valdor  and  any  other  man 
who'd  pay  her  a  few  shillings  a  week  as  model ;  she 
ruined  her  health  and  nearly  her  beauty,  because  for 
some  extraordinary  reason  she'd  determined  to  tread 
the  path  of  strictest  virtue — for  the  sake  of  a  man  who 
after  all  had  behaved  a  good  deal  worse  to  her  than  I 
had.  He  cast  her  off— I  did  not;  but,  with  the 
inconsistency  of  woman,  she  desired  to  escape  me ! 


NOE  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"  Well,  as  I  tell  you,  I  found  her,  and  I  tried  all  I 
knew  to  induce  her  to  leave  her  miserable  life  for  a 
better  one  of  my  making — not,  as  you  shrewdly  guess, 
because  I  was  in  love  with  her  any  more,  not  because 
I  was  sorry  for  her,  not  because  she  eluded  me  for  a 
time — you  were  wrong  there,  Pat, — but  because  I  was 
determined  to  hit  home  my  blow  at  the  man  through 
her.  She  was  adamant  for  a  while — poof!  it  was 
weary  work.  And  then  I  discovered  a  weak  spot — 
the  only  way  to  touch  her  heart  It  was  through  her 
'  boys,'  as  she  called  them — those  men  who  had  been 
good  to  her  when  she  was  alone  and  deserted.  I  let 
her  see  how  well  I  could  help  them,  how  I  could  set 
one  upon  the  actual  road  to  fortune,  but  that  I  was 
not  going  to  move  till  she  had  agreed  to  my  proposi- 
tions. She  weakened,  but  she  did  not  give  in.  And 
then  I  played  the  trump  card,  one  day.  It  does  not 
sound  much  as  I  tell  you  now,  but  the  whole  situation 
lent  itself  to  it  I  invented  a  little  story  of  Wingate's 
marriage — said  I'd  been  to  his  wedding.  I  was  not 
to  know  that  she  had  ever  even  heard  of  him,  so  my 
shot  went  well  home.  That  was  about  the  finish  of 
the  struggle.  Gad  !  all  her  strength  gave  out  then — 
anyone  could  have  led  her  with  a  hair.  She  bought 
success  for  her  boys — she  went  down  that  they  might 
rise ;  and  do  you  know  what  they  did,"  leaning 
forward,  and  looking  right  into  his  wife's  tear-dimmed 
eyes,  "  when  they  found  she'd  been  deceiving  them,  as 
they  called  it,  when  she  went  from  them  never  saying 
how  her  only  thought  had  been  for  them,  they 
practically  turned  their  backs  upon  her.  Her 
surrender  is  not  particularly  flattering  to  myself,  as 
you  see,  but  all  I  had  played  for  was  a  certain  power 
over  her — if  she  were  a  hag  of  ninety  she  could  not 
be  much  less  to  me.  The  man  had  left  England.  I 


NOR  ALL  YOUR,  TEARS 


have  but  waited  for  his  return,  to  flaunt  her  in  his  face 
— to  let  him  know  that  once  more  she  belongs  to  me 
— and  presently  to  cast  her  off,  to  let  her  sink  to  what 
she  may,  for  him  to  pick  up  out  of  the  mire  or  leave 
in  it  You  want  to  save  her?  You're  a  trifle  too 
late,  Pat  —  wait  till  my  work  is  over,  then  your 
opportunity  will  come." 

He  got  up  as  he  spoke,  and  gave  his  shoulders  a 
great  shake.  All  the  indolence  had  died  out  of  his 
face,  out  of  his  tired  eyes.  There  was  the  savageness 
of  a  beast  in  them,  and  in  the  cruel  expression  of  his 
mouth,  and  Pat  slid  from  her  seat  on  the  window-sill, 
and  stood  for  a  moment  holding  the  curtain,  while 
she  fought  with  a  feeling  of  positive  sickness. 

"Cuthbert,  don't  do  it  Give  up  so  hideous,  so 
low  a  revenge.  Look,  I  have  not  the  claim  of 
common  friendship  to  ask  you  this,  but  I  do  ask  it 
I  beg  it  of  you,"  she  implored,  weakly,  because  she 
felt  it  was  hopelessly.  "God  knows  that  your  life 
has  been  so  evil  that  you  will  need  mercy  one  day. 
Do  what  I  ask  you.  Let  this  one  thing  count  to 
your  good.  Let  her  go.  Do  not  injure  her  further. 
Such  intentions  as  you  avow  towards  her  are  worse 
than  brutal  Let  me  go  to  her.  The  man,"  looking 
on  the  ground,  M  may  never  return." 

Brabazon  looked  on  the  ground  too,  and  an  odd 
smile  crept  round  the  corners  of  his  lips. 

"  No,  Wingate  may  never  return.  When  he  does, 
he  will  have  something  to  learn." 

"You  won't  hear  me?"  Pat  said,  drawing  her 
breath  hard. 

"  I  am  sorry.  You  do  me  much  honour ;  but,  ask 
me  nearly  anything  else.  You  need  not  have  heard 
that  story,  but  you  insisted.  And  I  told  it  to  you 
so  that  you  should  not  trouble  to  try  to  move  me, 

056 


NOB,  ALL  YOUE  TEARS 


There  is  this  left  to  you.  You  can  find  her,  though 
it  won't  be  easy,  and  you  can  put  her  on  her  guard. 
You  can  tell  the  story  far  and  wide,  only  it  won't  be 
very  nice  telling  for  you  —  my  wife." 

"  You  make  me  ill,"  Pat  said  breathlessly.  "  You 
make  me  ashamed  of  having  set  foot  in  this  loathsome 
place  that  you  live  in." 

Then,  without  another  word  or  glance,  she  groped 
her  way  to  the  door,  which  Brabazon  held  open,  and 
to  the  main  door,  which  he  also  held  open. 

That  closed,  he  turned  with  great  haste  into 
another  room  on  his  left  A  quick  exclamation 
escaped  him. 


Valerie  was  standing  by  the  window.  She  was 
only  very  white,  otherwise  she  was  her  usual  self. 

"  My  dearest,  how  long  have  you  been  here  ?  " 

"Three  minutes  by  the  clock,"  returned  Valerie, 
with  a  little  smile.  "  Lessing  said  you  were  engaged. 
I  was  a  little  late,  but  your  note  asking  me  to  come 
up  was  late  too." 

u  I  know.     Pardon  me  a  moment." 

He  went  quickly  out  of  the  room,  shutting  the 
door  behind  him. 

Lessing  was  just  taking  in  some  letters.  His 
master  dragged  him  into  the  room  which  Pat  had 
vacated. 

"How  long  has  that  lady  been  there?"  he 
demanded  in  a  whisper,  with  his  eyes  on  the 
curtains  that  hid  dividing  doors.  Lessing's  knees, 
which  had  been  knocking  together  for  the  last 
three-quarters  of  an  hour,  became  suddenly  strong. 

"  Two  —  perhaps  three  minutes,  sir,  when  you  went 
into  the  room,"  he  returned,  having  had  his  ear  to 
the  door  and  ascertained  what  Valerie  had  said 

E 


NOR  ALL  YOUR,  TEAKS 


herself.  "I  had  to  say  you  were  engaged,  sir," 
with  a  deprecatory  gesture. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  Brabazon  murmured,  with  a 
relieved  sigh.  "  Only,  if  you  took  to  making  idiotic 
mistakes,  you'd  have  to  get  out  of  this  place." 

He  moved  through  the  doorway.  In  the  hall  he 
paused  thoughtfully. 

"  I  shall  want  you  to  attend  to  that  business  I 
explained  a  little  earlier  than  I  thought" 

"Very  good,  sir." 

"  Everything  ready  ?  You're  certain  there  can't  be 
a  hitch?" 

"Not  of  my  causing,  sir,"  with  pathetically 
uplifted  eyebrows. 

"  Good.     Now,  bring  tea — and  admit  no  one." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Lessing  went  into  his  own  room.  He  shut  the 
door,  and  he  wiped  away  the  great  beads  of 
perspiration  that  stood  out  on  his  forehead. 

"  Lord !  if  he  knew  that  she  come  in  pretty  well 
just  behind  his  wife,  he'd  flay  me !  But  he  wouldn't 
have  thanked  me  to  have  showed  her  in  bang 
atop  of  the  other!  And  she  may  have  heard  every 
word  they  said — which  it  wouldn't  be  Mrs  B.  that  'd 
spare  him !  But  if  she  did,  she's  keepin'  it  to 
herself,  and  lying  low  over  it  She  told  him  she'd 
been  in  the  room  three  minutes  by  the  clock — 
thank  God  I  listened !  And  I  suppose  she  did  not 
bargain  for  his  asking  me  1  Whew  1 * 


•5§ 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


XXVI 

DARKNESS  fell  early  on  this  particular 
evening.  The  clouds  that  had  been  heavy 
all  day  grew  still  heavier  with  approaching 
night ;  and  still  the  rain  poured  in  torrents, 
washing  the  streets,  dulling  the  hum  of  traffic,  driving 
all  those  who  could  be  driven  home,  or  under  cover. 

Wingate,  after  his  interview  with  Pat,  had  gone 
straight  to  his  own  rooms ;  some  vague  half  hope 
seemed  to  keep  him  there,  something  in  Pat's 
manner  that  had  given  him  that  hope,  something 
that  had  held  a  promise,  and  that  kept  him  waiting, 
watching  the  clock,  for  a  possible  message  from  her. 

His  head  ached  with  thinking.  He  had  even  tired 
his  limbs  with  his  constant  tramp  through  the  rooms. 
And  now,  as  he  turned  away  from  the  window  and 
looked  at  his  watch  again,  he  gave  his  shoulders  an 
impatient  shake. 

It  was  sheer  folly  to  expect  to  hear  yet — and 
when  he  did,  it  would  be  perhaps  to  hear  no  good 
news.  But  Pat  had  bidden  him  hold  himself  in 
readiness  for  her  message — Pat,  who  had  counted 
on  better  success  than  her  plans  had  met  with — 
and  he  was  here  waiting. 

Ten  minutes  later  the  hall  bell  rang;  and 
Wingate  caught  himself  holding  his  breath  till  his 
own  door  opened. 

"  A  boy  messenger  to  see  you,  sir." 

"  Bring  him  in  here." 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


The  boy  came — not  the  most  intelligent  looking 
type. 

"  Are  you  Mr  Wingate,  sir  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  The  lady  that  sent  me  said  I  wasn't  to  give  the 
message  to  no  one  but  you,  sir.  Will  you  please  go 
to  this  address  at  once,"  producing  the  back  of  one 
of  his  printed  tickets,  on  which  was  written  something 
in  pencil,  evidently  scribbled  by  himself  to  refresh 
his  memory.  "  She'll  be  there  waitin'  for  you  ;  and 
will  you  please  ask  for  Mrs  Brabazon — I  was  to  be 
sure  and  say  only  Mrs  Brabazon." 

Wingate  held  the  paper  to  the  light ;  it  bore 
Brabazon's  address  in  Knightsbridge. 

"Are  you  sure  this  is  the  right  address,"  he 
questioned,  a  little  puzzled. 

"  Yes,  sir.  The  lady  was  there  herself  when  she 
sent  me." 

"  Were  you  to  take  an  answer  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.    You  was  to  go  at  once,  sir." 

"All  right.  Here  you  are,"  tossing  him  half-a- 
crown.  "  As  you  go  out,  send  me  up  a  cab." 

"  Yes,  sir;  thank  you,  sir." 

"Pat  there?  Pat  in  her  husband's  rooms?" 
Wingate  said  over  and  over  again  to  himself  per- 
plexedly. "  I  wonder  what  can  have  happened — 
something  unforeseen."  The  thought  of  Brabazon 
made  his  blood  boil ;  the  knowledge  that  Pat 
evidently  wanted  him  at  once  hurried  his  steps.  He 
put  on  his  hat  and  a  light  mackintosh  coat,  and 
turning  the  collar  high,  stepped  into  the  cab  that  he 
found  waiting  for  him.  Then  still  puzzling,  still 
feeling  anger  uppermost  at  the  mere  memory  of  the 
man  to  whose  rooms  he  was  being  swiftly  borne, 
he  lay  back  in  the  corner,  looking  with  unseeing  eyes 

•60 


NOB  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 


upon  the  roads  and  pavements  that  shone  like  glass 
with  the  myriad  lights  twinkling  over  them. 

Arrived  at  his  destination,  he  sprang  out  of  the  cab, 
passed  rapidly  between  the  doors  held  back  for  him, 
and,  declining  the  lift,  ran  up  the  stairs. 

Lessing  admitted  him — a  man  who  knew  Wingate 
far  better  than  he  was  known  to  him. 

"  Mrs  Brabazon  ? "  Wingate  inquired,  putting  his 
hat  down  on  the  hall  seat. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Lessing  threw  open  a  door  at  the  far  end  of  the 
long  hall,  and  the  visitor  passed  into  a  room  that  was 
in  total  darkness.  When  the  lights,  which  were  turned 
on  from  outside,  shone  full  in  his  face,  he  was  a  little 
dazzled,  but  as  his  eyes  grew  used  to  them  he  saw, 
with  considerable  surprise,  that  he  was  in  a  bedroom 
— a  large,  luxurious  bedroom,  where  the  blinds  were 
drawn,  where  the  furnishings  were  light  and  tasteful, 
and  spoke  of  a  woman's  touch. 

Before  the  door  there  was  a  huge  screen,  in  the 
fireplace  flowers,  and  drawn  close  to  the  end  of  the 
bed  a  large  sofa  on  which  a  woman  lay.  A  woman 
wrapped  lightly  in  a  long  gown  of  white  gauzy 
material  made  heavy  with  lace — a  woman  whose 
mass  of  flame-coloured  hair  spread  over  the  pillows 
in  rough  disorder,  whose  hands  hung  down  limply, 
and  whose  little  bare  feet  were  encased  in  soft  blue 
velvet  slippers. 

With  a  hoarse  cry  Wingate  took  one  step  to  the 
side  of  the  sofa  and  bent  down  over  the  woman,  the 
single  word  "Val"  leaving  his  lips  in  a  gasp  of 
mingled  horror  and  joy,  and  sudden,  terrible,  clear 
comprehension.  For  a  moment  the  room  spun 
round  him,  the  walls  seemed  to  be  falling  in  on  him- 
Through  a  mist,  through  the  blackness  as  of  night, 

261 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


through  sickening  delirium  that  momentarily  closed 
on  sight  and  sense,  he  felt  her  soft  breath  on  his 
cheek.  As  one  coming  slowly  out  of  a  dream,  he 
saw  her  lying  there  in  the  abandonment  of  sleep. 
His  hand  closed  on  and  buried  itself  in  the  masses  of 
her  hair,  his  lips  breathed  her  name  again, — and  then 
he  remembered  that  he  was  beneath  Brabazon's  roof, 
that  he  had  asked  for  Mrs  Brabazon,  and  he  had 
been  conducted  here. 

With  a  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling  he  stood 
upright,  his  hand  flung  off  the  strands  of  hair  wound 
round  it 

She  stirred,  as  though  his  intent  glance,  the  sound 
of  his  voice,  woke  her  from  deepest  sleep ;  her  eyes 
opened  slowly,  then  widely  and  more  widely ;  a  little 
cry  left  her  lips,  and  then,  as  the  man  took  a  step 
backwards,  she  struggled  to  a  sitting  posture. 
Madness  took  possession  of  Wingate,  a  very  demon 
of  rage,  in  which  was  strangely  blended  a  sense  of 
deadliest  insult,  and  keenest,  cruellest  disappointment, 
a  dashing  down  of  some  vague,  perhaps  groundless 
hope  that  had  come  to  him  with  the  promise  held  in 
Pat's  sweet  eyes :  but  still  a  hope,  a  possibility  of 
something  worth  the  name  of  life  in  the  future. 

All  had  been  snatched  from  him  in  this  moment — 
not  by  degrees,  but  in  one  blinding  blow  that  left 
him  powerless  to  reason ;  only  conscious  that  he 
had  been  cheated,  made  sport  of,  insulted,  trapped 
into  coming  to  this  place  that  he  might  look  upon 
the  wreck  of  his  lost  love — lost  by  his  own  folly — 
that  he  niight  find  her  beneath  the  very  roof  of  the 
man  who  had  ruined  her  life  and  his. 

If  she  had  touched  him  he  must  have  flung  her 
from  him;  but  she  only  strove  to  reach  him  like  a 
woman  dragging  herself  out  of  a  hideous  dream ;  she 

262 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


only  stretched  her  hands  to  him  like  a  drowning 
creature  seeking  to  clutch  at  any  straw  that  might 
mean  safety. 

«  You — you ! "  she  breathed  faintly,  while  he  went 
farther  out  of  her  reach,  and  never  saw  that,  as  he 
flung  himself  through  the  door-way,  she  fell  face  down 
across  the  edge  of  the  sofa. 

Lessing  heard  the  hall  door  close,  close  with  a 
bang  that  shook  the  ceilings.  He  had  sufficient 
presence  of  mind  to  keep  out  of  the  way. 

And  the  crash  roused  Valerie. 

She  stood  up  uncertainly,  holding  to  the  end  of 
the  bed  for  support.  There  was  a  curious  heaviness 
about  her  head  and  eyes,  and  just  at  first  memory 
would  not  come.  She  threw  back  the  loose  hair 
from  her  face  and  looked  round  the  room.  When  last 
she  could  remember  anything,  she  was  pouring  out 
tea  for  herself  and  Brabazon  ;  now  she  was  clothed 
in  a  filmy  garment  strange  to  her,  her  hair  was  loose, 
her  feet  were  bare ;  and  thrown  over  a  chair  were  her 
clothes.  Her  mouth  was  dry  and  hot.  She  looked 
at  the  clock  and  saw  that  it  was  nearing  night. 

And  while,  with  her  head  resting  on  her  hand,  her 
eyes  were  fastened  on  the  floor,  tracing  the  pattern 
of  the  carpet  in  search  of  some  answer  to  her 
thoughts,  they  fell  upon  a  dark  object  close  to  the 
sofa's  head. 

Stooping  to  pick  it  up,  she  saw  that  it  was  a 
pocket  book ;  opening  it,  she  saw  first  Wingate's 
name  and  the  address  of  his  rooms — an  address 
that  burned  itself  into  her  brain.  Then  all  at  once 
her  mind  became  clear — she  seemed  to  understand. 
She  went  across  the  room  with  the  stealthy  step  of 
a  cat,  and  slipped  the  pocket-book  among  the  folds 
of  her  gown  hanging  over  the  chair  back.  That 


NOK  ALL  YOUK  TEAKS 

done,  she  crept  back  to  the  sofa,  stretching  her  limbs 
along  it,  and  letting  her  head  fall  back  on  the  pillows 
and  her  hair  over  them. 

Her  eyes  closed.  Her  mind  went  back  several 
hours.  She  was  reading  a  letter  from  Brabazon, 
which  bade  her  come  to  him  here ;  she  was  making 
the  journey,  she  was  entering  these  rooms,  she  was 
marking  Lessing's  evident  agitation  as  she  passed 
him,  without  invitation,  into  the  nearest  room,  and 
heard  his  information  that  his  master  was  engaged 
for  a  few  minutes.  She  was  again  standing  by  the 
window,  with  that  weary  indifference  to  all  that 
happened  upon  her,  which  was  part  of  her  life  now, 
and  her  ears  were  suddenly  caught  by  the  sound  of 
a  remembered  voice.  She  was  listening,  she  was 
creeping  towards  the  heavy  curtains  and  drawing 
them  gently  aside  while  she  leant  her  ear  to  the 
dividing  doors.  She  was  listening — she  was  hearing 
again  every  word  of  Brabazon's  conversation  with  his 
wife.  And  even  as  she  lay  here,  her  blood  tingled, 
her  breath  came  short,  as  it  had  done  that  afternoon. 
She  was  listening  to  Brabazon's  story,  told  with  such 
coarse  brutality,  and  broken  upon  every  now  and 
again  by  Pat's  sweet,  pleading  voice — she  was 
listening  to  her  pass  through  the  hall,  and  then  to 
Brabazon's  anxious  inquiry  as  to  how  long  she, 
Valerie,  had  been  in  the  house.  She  was  telling 
him  but  a  few  minutes,  and  even  then  she  was  lying 
instinctively,  that  she  might  gain  time  for  thought. 
She  remembered  then  that  Brabazon  had  taken 
away  her  tea  and  told  her  that  she  looked  ill,  and 
had  ordered  Lessing  to  bring  her  some  wine.  From 
that  moment  she  remembered  no  more. 

She  could  have  sprung  to  her  feet  without  an 
effort  now,  but  she  forced  herself  to  keep  still.  She 

364 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


understood  his  plot — all  his  plans.  She  realised, 
with  bitter  hopelessness,  that  they  had  been  all  too 
successful. 

And  still  she  lay  there,  a  thought  coming  to  her 
that  gradually  took  shape,  that  took  firm  hold  of 
her,  a  determination  that  no  power  on  earth  could 
have  set  aside.  One  moment  her  cheeks  tingled 
and  her  eyes  shone  like  fire,  another  and  she  was 
white  as  death,  the  beads  of  cold  perspiration 
standing  out  on  her  face  and  on  her  throat 

And  while  her  hands  clenched  and  her  teeth  set, 
she  heard  a  distant  door  close  softly,  Brabazon's 
voice  lowered  as  he  spoke  to  Lessing.  And  she 
stretched  her  limbs  at  greater  ease,  and  closed  her 
eyes,  and  let  her  hands  fall  limply  to  her  sides 
once  more. 

Brabazon,  bending  over  her,  only  saw  that  she 
still  seemed  to  sleep  very  heavily. 


•** 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


XXVII 

SHE  heard  him  moving  softly  about  the  room ; 
she    saw    through    her   eyelashes,  that    she 
lifted    scarcely    the    twentieth    part    of   an 
inch,  that  once  he  stood  before  the  mirror 
studying    his    face    with    evident    satisfaction,   and 
brushing   his    hair    down    smoothly   on   each    side. 
Presently    she    heard    him    speaking    to    Lessing, 
telling  him  that   it  would  be  hours  before  madam 
awoke,   and    that    she    was    not    to    be    disturbed. 
After  that,   silence  reigned   throughout   the  rooms. 
The  lights  were  switched  off  again  from  outside — 
darkness  and  silence  fell,  silence  save  for  the  distant 
rumble  of  traffic,  for  the  steady  wash  of  the  rain. 

Whether  Brabazon  remained  in  his  rooms  or  went 
out  she  did  not  know ;  she  heard  and  saw  no  signs 
of  life. 

Whatever  the  drug  administered  to  her,  it  had 
not  done  its  work  fully ;  still,  it  left  her  dazed, 
more  than  ordinarily  weak,  sensible  of  all  that 
might  be  going  on  about  her,  yet  powerless  to  stir.  ' 
Yet  memory  had  come ;  she  had  the  full  power  to 
reason;  and  lying  there  she  made  the  most  of  it. 

The  hours  crept  by;  one  after  another  she  heard 
them  chimed  out  in  different  tones  and  times  by 
several  different  clocks. 

She  lay  there  as  one  awaiting  death  might  lie 
through  the  night,  while  the  watchers  dozed  off  into 

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NOR  ALL  YOUR,  TEARS 


fitful  sleep,  and  before  the  fading  eyes  all  life  from 
its  earliest  recollections  spread  out,  a  picture  from 
which  she  turned  with  a  shudder.  She  lay  there 
in  the  pain  of  memory,  of  useless  regret,  of  the 
knowledge  of  all  her  life  might  have  held,  and  of 
all  she  had  missed.  She  lay  there  with  no  sound 
coming  to  her  but  the  regular  ticking  of  the  clocks, 
the  sough  of  the  wind,  the  beating  down  of  the 
rain  on  the  window  panes,  the  roar  of  the  traffic 
beyond.  And  while  her  eyes  unclosed,  looking 
upward  into  the  darkness,  it  seemed  as  though  life 
were  indeed  fading  from  her,  that  death  was  close 
at  hand.  Of  death  she  had  no  dread ;  she  would 
have  welcomed  it, — but  of  death  alone,  in  solitude. 
A  mortal  sense  of  terrible  loneliness,  a  certain  fear, 
stole  on  her,  leaving  her  paralysed,  strengthless. 

The  night  wore  on.  If  she  dreamed,  she  did  not 
know;  she  only  understood  presently  that  new 
strength  had  come  to  her,  that  her  way,  all  at  once, 
had  become  plain,  sure. 

She  rose  from  her  couch,  she  groped  about  the 
room  in  search  of  means  to  give  her  light ;  she  found 
the  bell,  and  would  have  sounded  it,  but  that  at 
that  moment  she  heard  Brabazon's  voice — it  was 
loud,  blustering,  as  when  he  had  been  drinking 
heavily — raised  in  some  order  to  Lessing,  who, 
evidently,  was  not  at  hand. 

Valerie  had  found  her  way  to  the  door,  and  there, 
just  outside  it,  she  stood  facing  Brabazon,  a  ghostly 
figure  that  startled  him  into  the  utterance  of  a  half 
savage,  half  frightened  oath. 

"  Good  Lord  ! "  he  exclaimed  thickly,  dropping  his 
dripping  hat  and  coat  upon  the  floor  of  the  hall. 
"  What  the  devil — oh,  to  be  sure — hanged  if  I  hadn't 
forgotten  you,  Val.  Better  now  ?  " 

267 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


He  passed  his  hand  restlessly  over  his  eyes,  and 
made  an  effort  to  pull  himself  together  ;  and  she 
stood  leaning  against  the  woodwork,  her  hands 
clenched  in  the  folds  of  her  gown,  her  eyes  narrowed, 
not  with  the  heaviness  of  sleep,  but  with  calm 
calculation,  and  her  body  a  little  bent,  as  a  cat 
bends  when  it  is  about  to  spring.  She  moved  nearer 
to  him. 

"  I'm  all  right,"  she  said  quietly,  not  asking  a 
question,  not  showing  any  surprise  or  bewilderment 
at  finding  herself  here  in  this  position.  "Why," 
putting  her  hand  on  his  arm,  "you  are  awfully 
wet." 

"Beast  of  a  night — coming  down  in  bucketfuls. 
Good  Lord !  it's  nearly  two  o'clock.  I  swear  I  forgot 
you,  Val!  Only  just  got  up?  You  are  cold  and 
hungry.  Come  in  here,"  pushing  open  the  dining- 
room  door,  "and  have  a  glass  of  the  Boy,  anyhow. 
Dashed  if  I  didn't  think  you  were  a  ghost  standing 
there." 

It  was  plain  that  his  mind  was  not  very  clear, 
and  that  he  was  making  an  effort  to  clear  it  She 
followed  him  into  the  room,  drawing  her  flimsy  gown 
tightly  round  her,  and  never  once  taking  her  eyes  off 
him.  Supper  was  daintily  spread,  as  it  was  always 
spread,  for  four  people,  after  twelve  o'clock.  Every 
delicacy  that  could  be  left  cold  lay  under  snowy 
white  cloths ;  on  the  sideboard  were  wines,  and 
spirits,  and  mineral  waters,  and  great  bowls  of  ice, 
fast  melting  away.  An  intense  thirst  parched  her 
throat ;  when  Brabazon's  back  was  turned  to  her  she 
drank  swiftly,  quietly,  from  one  of  the  ice-pails, 
holding  its  frosted  sides  with  trembling  hands,  and 
replacing  it  softly  on  the  linen  cloth. 

She  sat  down  at  one  side  of  the  table,  and  watched 
268 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


him  while  he  let  the  cork  fly  from  a  bottle,  pushing 
her  glass  towards  him,  which  he  filled,  but  which  she 
did  not  touch  again.  While  he  still  stood  he  also 
filled  his  own  glass  twice,  and  drained  it  to  the  last 
drop. 

"  That's  better,"  he  declared,  throwing  himself  back 
in  the  chair  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  looking 
at  her  with  tired,  rather  pink-rimmed  eyes.  "What 
a  liar  I  am  !  I  told  someone  to-day — who  the  deuce 
was  it — that  you'd  lost  your  beauty!  Lost  your 
beauty !  You  ought  to  see  yourself  now,  Val,  with 
that  white  thing  on,  and  all  the  red  hair  flying 
about  Gad !  That's  how  you  ought  to  have  sat 
to  Valdor  and  those  other  chaps.  How'd  you  like 
to  ?  What  if  you  had  to,  eh  ?  " 

u  I  don't  understand  you." 

He  had  put  the  little  breast  of  a  bird  upon  her  plate, 
and  she  was  moving  it  about  idly  with  her  fork,  but 
not  attempting  to  eat  it  Now,  as  he  leant  one 
elbow  unsteadily  on  the  table  and  brought  his  hot 
face  closer  to  hers,  the  fingers  of  her  right  hand 
slid  softly  between  the  china  and  glass,  and  drew 
towards  her  the  long,  heavy  knife  set  at  one  side 
of  his  plate.  He  did  not  see  the  movement,  he  saw 
only  her  great  burning  eyes,  a  little  indistinctly. 

"  No,  but  you  will !  You've  never  asked  me  yet 
why  I  sent  for  you  to-day  .  .  .  was  it  to-day  ? "  he 
said.  "  Hang  it !  my  head's  like  a  furnace ! " 

"  Why  did  you  ? "  she  asked,  very  quietly  ;  but  her 
eyes  suddenly  met  his,  so  that  he  saw  them  for  an 
instant  clearly,  and  there  was  something  in  their 
expression  that  seemed  to  startle  the  man  a  little. 
He  drew  his  arm  off  the  table,  and  before  he 
answered,  re- filled  and  emptied  his  glass  again. 

"  I'd  got  a  plan !  Gad !  how  easily  it  worked 
269 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


after  all.  What'd  you  say,  Val,  if  I  told  you  you 
took  a  few  drops  in  the  wine  Lessing  brought  you 
to-day  that  sent  you  into  that  pleasant  sleep? 
What'd  you  say  if  .  .  ." 

"  I'll  tell  you,"  she  replied,  still  with  intense  calm 
that  somehow  troubled  him  vaguely.  "You  need 
not  trouble  to  explain.  I  knew  your  plan  five 
minutes  after  I  entered  these  rooms.  I  heard  all 
you  and  your  wife  said." 

"  You  heard  !    You  and  Lessing  lied  to  me,  then  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  I  half  suspected  it ;  no,  I  didn't,  though.  I 
feared  it  in  the  beginning  when  I  found  you  here, 
but  I  believed — him — damn  him  1  ...  not  that  it 
matters  much." 

"Not  at  all!" 

He  looked  at  her  sharply.  Her  quiet  words  had 
sobered  him  a  little,  but  sobering  had  the  effect  of 
robbing  him  of  his  good  temper. 

"  Well,  you  know,  then  ? "  looking  at  her  with 
narrowed  eyes. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  you  don't  know.  While  you 
slept  in  yonder  room,  while  I  took  care  you  should 
sleep,  I  brought  your  one-time  lover  to  see  you. 
I  trapped  him  easily  enough.  I  brought  him  here, 
to  see  you  here !  I  was  curious  to  know  what  he'd 
do — he  left  you  as  he  left  you  before.  Do  you 
know  that  in  this  very  room  he  thrashed  me  like 
he'd  thrash  a  hound?  Do  you  know  I  swore  to 
make  him  pay  for  it — and  through  you?  You  see 
I  can  wait — you  see  I  don't  mind  time  and  trouble." 

He  leant  forward  again  and  laughed  ;  he  watched 
the  whitening  of  her  face,  her  lips,  to  the  whiteness 
of  death ;  he  saw  the  dark  shadows  under  her  eyes 
growing  darker;  and,  his  voice  sinking  to  a  hoarse 

270 


NOR,  ALL  YOL3,  TEARS 


whisper,  he  laid  before  her  all  his  intentions  towards 
her,  more  clearly,  more  brutally,  than  he  had  laid 
them  before  Pat 

And  she  never  once  spoke.  Only  her  breath 
came  more  heavily ;  her  eyes  never  left  his,  her 
fingers  clasped  and  unclasped  over  the  strong, 
slender  blade  of  the  knife  still  beneath  them.  She 
let  him  speak  on,  uninterrupted,  well  knowing  that 
he  was  hardly  conscious  of  what  he  was  saying ; 
she  watched  him  fill  and  drain  his  glass  repeatedly; 
she  saw  his  eyes  grow  dim,  and  that  he  swayed  to 
catch  sight  of  her  face  as  though  it  eluded  him. 
And  she  did  not  move  when  he  bent  nearer,  till 
his  breath  was  on  her  cheek,  his  hot  mouth  almost 
against  her  ear. 

But  it  was  when  he  had  finished  speaking,  when, 
with  half  closed  eyes,  and  a  low,  insulting  laugh,  he 
threw  himself  against  the  back  of  his  chair,  and 
regarded  her  with  half  amusement,  that  Valerie 
stirred. 

With  a  low,  choking  cry,  with  a  spring  lithe  and 
swift  and  sure  as  a  panther's,  she  threw  herself 
forward,  with  all  the  strength  of  wild,  ungovernable 
passion,  straight  across  his  breast  The  sudden, 
unexpected  attack  gave  him  no  time  for  resistance, 
the  weight  of  her  body  hurled  across  his  snapped 
the  back  of  the  chair,  and  sent  them  both  to  the 
ground.  A  savage  oath  left  his  lips,  his  arm  went 
out  to  thrust  her  off  him ;  the  next  moment  the 
words  he  sought  to  utter  died  away  in  a  short, 
sharp,  gasping  sound.  Valerie  knelt  above  him, 
watching  the  blood  flow  swiftly  out  over  his  throat, 
a  dark  stain  growing  larger  on  the  whiteness  of 
his  collar ;  stooping  only  once,  with  a  low  laugh, 
hideous  in  its  harshness,  to  drive  still  farther  home, 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


in  its  bed  beneath  his  ear,  the  knife  that  her  fingers 
had  never  ceased  to  fondle. 

She  rose  to  her  feet  and  stood  looking  down  upon 
him,  laughing  quietly  while  the  fluttering  breath  died 
away,  while  the  lips  grew  blue  and  rigid,  while  the 
face  grew  set  and  still  and  stern  in  death. 

Then  she  moved.  She  took  from  the  table  a  glass 
and  dashed  it  straight  into  the  wide-open,  staring 
eyes  that  looked  up  into  hers  without  sight  and 
without  life. 

The  clock  struck  the  half-hour  past  two.  The 
sound — the  only  one  stirring  the  dead  silence — roused 
her,  struck  home  to  her  heart  a  frightful  fear. 

Moving  cautiously,  yet  swiftly,  she  passed  into  the 
hall,  switching  off  the  lights  as  she  went.  That 
which  burned  in  the  hall  itself  was  shaded  and  dim, 
but  by  it  she  saw  that  she  was  quite  alone.  But 
while  she  listened,  to  her  wild  fancy,  through  the 
booming  in  her  ears,  there  seemed  to  come  the  sound 
of  a  soft  movement  from  the  direction  of  the  servants' 
quarters.  In  front  of  her  there  hung  a  cloak — a 
woman's,  long  and  dark.  Without  pausing  to  think, 
she  lifted  it  from  its  hook,  flung  it  round  her  shoulders, 
and  drew  the  cape  of  it  over  her  head.  Not  hesitating, 
not  giving  one  backward  glance,  she  drew  back  the 
latch  of  the  door,  and  passed  into  the  silence  of  the 
outer  hall.  She  sped  down  the  stairs  light  and  swift 
as  a  bird  ;  the  glass  doors  were  unbarred ;  the  night 
porter  sat  fast  asleep  in  the  lift.  In  the  courtyard 
one  lamp  burned,  its  light  made  uncertain  by  the 
high  wind  and  the  steady  downpour  of  rain.  Beyond, 
the  traffic  seemed  to  have  ceased;  the  streets  streaming 
with  water,  deserted.  The  rain  came  down  in  torrents 
that  made  every  object  seen  as  through  a  veil ;  here 
and  there  Valerie  caught  the  glint  of  a  policeman's 

272 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


helmet,  the  black,  wet  brightness  of  his  cape  as  he 
stood  far  back  in  a  doorway  for  a  moment's  shelter. 
But  no  living  creature  passed  her  as  she  sped  on,  her 
white  gown  held  close  under  the  dark  cloak,  her  bare 
feet  in  their  soft,  soaked  velvet  covering,  making  no 
sound.  The  wind  increased  in  violence,  the  rain  swept 
in  great  sheets  full  in  her  face,  but  Valerie  paused  not 
even  for  breath ;  she  sped  on  through  the  night,  not 
with  the  wildness  of  fear  going  on  and  on,  anywhere, 
at  random,  but  to  a  haven  of  rest  and  safety. 


•73 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


XXVIII 

KERR  WING  ATE  sat  by  his  writing  table, 
his  arms  thrown  down  upon  it,  his  head 
resting  on  them.  He  had  come  back  from 
Brabazon's  rooms  to  his  own,  almost 
unconscious  that  he  did  so;  he  had  dismissed  his 
servants  with  impatience,  and  had  shut  himself  up 
alone.  Nothing  was  clear  to  him  but  Valerie's  face, 
her  slender,  white-gowned  form  as  he  had  seen  it 
stretched  out  in  the  easy  abandonment  of  sleep. 

Nothing  had  been  clear  since — thought  stood  still, 
memory  would  go  no  farther.  The  night  passed 
without  his  knowledge. 

While  he  rested  in  the  same  position,  his  dog  came 
near  to  him  and  put  a  paw  upon  his  knee.  It 
strengthened  one  paw  with  the  other,  but  met  with 
no  response.  In  patience  it  waited  a  moment,  and 
then  gave  vent  to  a  little  whine. 

Wingate,  roused,  turned  to  look  at  it  impatiently, 
and  to  order  it  to  lie  down  ;  but  the  dog  flew  to  the 
door  wagging  its  tail  violently,  and  uttering  little 
short  barks.  Wingate,  listening,  heard  a  sound 
without,  not  the  knocker  or  the  bell  touched,  but  the 
soft  hammer  of  knuckles  on  the  glass  panels.  He 
listened  again ;  the  sound  was  repeated.  Someone 
trying  to  tamper  with  the  lock,  he  told  himself,  and 
strode  into  the  hall  and  flung  the  door  wide. 

There  in  the  aperture,  with  the  water  streaming 
from  her  clothes  and  her  hair,  with  her  drenched  face 

274 


NOK  ALL  YOUR  TEAES 

set  and  white,   and    her    eyes   wide    and   pleading, 
Valeric  stood. 

To  have  saved  his  life  Wingate  could  have  uttered 
no  sound  ;  and  while  he  stood  staring  at  her,  not 
believing  his  own  eyes,  trying  to  fight  his  way  out  of 
some  dream,  she  crept  in,  closing  the  door  herself 
behind  her,  and  then  clinging  desperately  to  his  arm. 

Her  touch  awoke  him,  the  pressure  of  her  chill,  wet 
fingers.  He  looked  down  at  her  silently  for  one 
moment  more,  and  then  he  lifted  her  into  his  arms 
and  carried  her,  with  the  water  streaming  from  every 
rag,  into  the  room. 

"  You  !  You  !  "  he  said,  scarcely  setting  her  on  her 
feet,  and  searching  her  great  eyes.  "  Speak  to  me — 
let  me  hear  your  voice — if  I  am  dreaming  ..." 

She  brought  her  cold  hand  up  timidly  to  his  face, 
she  drew  closer  to  him,  while  his  arms  instinctively 
strengthened  their  hold.  "  It  is  I — Val !  Don't — 
don't  turn  from  me — don't  drive  me  away!  You 
didn't  understand — you — O  God!  you  wouldn't  wait 
to  hear — and — and  I  have  come  to  tell  you.  You 
loved  me  once !  By  that  love  I  plead  with  you  to 
hear  me  now.  Don't  drive  me  away,"  clinging  more 
closely  to  him,  "  don't  turn  me  out  into  the  street 
again." 

"  Hush !  For  heaven's  sake — though  I  deserve 
you  should  think  me  brute  enough  for  that." 

He  silenced  her  as  she  would  have  spoken  again, 
and,  releasing  her  from  his  hold,  took  from  her 
shoulders  the  drenched  cloak.  And  as  he  threw  it 
aside,  he  fell  back  with  a  startled  cry.  Beneath  it 
there  was  only  the  white  gown  in  which  he  had  seen 
her  lying  asleep  that  evening  in  Brabazon's  rooms  ; 
her  feet  were  still  bare,  save  for  the  little  slippers  that 
clung  to  them  like  wet  paper  now. 

275 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


"You  came  through  the  streets  in  that!  You 
followed  me " 

"  Not  at  once — I  have  only  come  straight  here. 
No  one  saw  me — there  is  not  a  soul  about,  and  the 
storm  is  raging.  Kerr,"  catching  at  his  arm  again, 
"  Don't  let  anyone — anyone  come  in  here — don't  let 
anyone  see  me.  Give  me  a  little  while  to — to  tell  you 
all — don't  leave  me." 

"  Be  quiet  a  moment,"  he  said  gently.  "  I'm  half 
bewildered  still,  I  think.  Nothing  has  been  clear  but 
you  since  I  saw  you  in  that  accursed  place.  I  was 
mad  then,  mad  as  I  was  before  to  leave  you.  What 
is  it  that  has  each  time  driven  me  to  madness,  to 
acting  like  a  brute,  and  a  fool,  and  a  coward,  at  the 
moment  when — when " 

"  I  needed  you  most !  No,  don't  blame  yourself. 
The  time's  short — so  short,"  with  a  little  wail,  and 
looking  nervously  over  her  shoulder.  "  Don't  let  us 
waste  it  Oh,  take  my  hands  in  yours  and  forget — 
and  help  me  to  forget  Hold  them — hold  them/' 
stretching  them  out,  cold  and  damp  still,  to  him  ;  "  and 
vile  though  you  know  me  to  be,  say  your  heart  is  not 
quite  dead  to  me." 

"  Dead  to  you !  Dead  to  you  !  Val,  do  you  under- 
stand love  so  little  that  you  think  such  as  mine  was—- 
nay, is — for  you,  can  ever  die  ? " 

He  took  her  hands;  the  coldness  of  them  sent  a 
chill  to  his  heart  He  put  her  back  into  a  chair. 

"You'll  have  caught  your  death  of  cold,"  he 
declared  half  roughly,  because  he  was  afraid.  "  Wait, 
no  one  shall  come  near  you  here.  You  are  safe,  and 
you  are  with  me — remember  that ;  but  I  won't  hear  a 
word  till  you  are  dry  and  warm." 

He  pushed  aside  some  ferns  in  the  fireplace 
impatiently.  The  fire  was  laid  in  the  grate  behind, 

276 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


and,  at  a  touch  of  his  match,  leapt  to  flame.  This 
done,  he  went  into  another  room  and  fetched  a 
rough  towel  with  which  he  dried  her  feet,  kneeling 
down  on  the  rug  and  holding  the  chilled  soles  up 
to  the  warmth.  He  touched  the  white  gauzy  gown, 
but  she  shook  her  head  and  told  him  it  was  dry ; 
and  then  he  went  out  of  the  room  again,  and  came 
back  some  moments  later  with  something  steaming 
hot  in  a  glass. 

"  It  is  only  brandy  and  hot  water,"  he  said,  "it  may 
save  you  from  a  fatal  chill — heaven  knows  !  Drink  it 
all." 

Valerie  obeyed.  When  he  took  the  glass  from  her 
a  little  colour  had  crept  into  her  cheeks,  her  fingers 
were  warm. 

He  stood  at  the  other  side  of  the  fireplace  while 
the  coals  got  hot,  and  the  flames  danced  merrily  up 
the  chimney.  Suddenly  his  eyes  met  hers.  The 
next  moment  he  had  thrown  himself  down  on  his 
knees  at  her  feet. 

"Forget — forget,"  she  whispered  to  him,  framing 
his  face  in  her  hands,  and  then  drawing  it  close  to  her 
breast  till  her  heart  beat  under  his  cheek. 

"But  to-day,  I  found  you,"  he  began,  lifting  his 
eyes  to  hers,  the  old  mad  ungovernable  jealousy  in 
them  and  in  every  tone  of  his  voice. 

"  I  know,"  she  answered  him.  "  If  you  had  waited 
you  would  have  understood — I  should  have  found 
strength  to  tell  you,  and  you  would  have  believed ;  I 
gave  you  truth  always." 

"  God  knows  you  did,"  he  said  heavily ;  "  how 
often  have  I  wished  with  all  my  soul  that  you  had 
lied  to  me." 

She  drew  her  breath  hard ;  she  passed  over  the 
slight  injustice  of  the  words,  because  she  understood 

277 


NOK  ALL  YOUR  TEAKS 


his  pain,  and  she  knew  how  much  more  there  was  for 
him  to  bear. 

"  Listen  to  me ;  let  me  tell  you  now  while  I  have 
strength  and  time," 

"And  time!" 

She  nodded. 

"  It  is  so  short — the  time.  Don't  leave  me — hold 
me  close  while  I  tell  you." 

He  did  not  wonder  at  the  strangeness  of  her  words 
or  the  wildness  of  her  eyes,  and  he  drew  himself  up 
to  the  arm  of  her  chair,  and  held  her  close  to  him  with 
less  of  passion  than  of  tender  pity,  that  soothed  her, 
but  that  left  her  hungering  for  the  tenderness,  for  one 
sign  of  the  love  that  had  been  all  hers. 

u  Have  you  lied  to  me,"  she  demanded  restlessly. 
M  Did  you  say  your  heart  is  not  dead  to  me  only  out 
of  pity  ?  Don't  you  care  ?  " 

He  forced  her  back  a  little  from  him,  because  she 
had  lifted  herself  so  that  her  lips  almost  touched  his, 
and  at  this  moment  to  forget  seemed  almost  easy. 

"  You  know  it !  I  must — no  power  can  rob  me  of 
my  love  for  you.  But — you  belonged  to — him!  You 
went  back  to  him.  While  I  fought  for  strength  to 
forget  you,  you  were  with  him  once  more.  When  at 
last,  knowing  that  life  was  worthless  without  you,  I 
came  back  for  your  forgiveness,  for  your  love — for  you, 
you — only  you — I  find  you  with  him,  you  bring  me 
yourself  beneath  his  roof  that  I  may  see  with  my 
own  eyes  ..." 

"  Not  I !  He  brought  you.  In  heart  I  have  never 
wronged  you  or  the  memory  of  your  love.  Every 
thought  I  have  kept  true  and  pure  for  you.  For  my 
acts  he  and  the  devil  may  answer,  since  God  and  you 
deserted  me.  In  heart  and  thought  I  tell  you  I  have 
been  true  to  you — whose  wife  I  might  have  been! 

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NOR  ALL  YOUK  TEAKS 


Do  you  think  I  ever  forgot  that  ?  Don't  you  under- 
stand that  all  I  have  had  to  live  upon  has  been  the 
memory  of  that  moment  when  you  loved  me  and  you 
— did  not  know.  Forget  all  else,  believe,  and  take 
me  back  into  your  heart  for  this  one  hour." 

He  made  her  no  answer,  he  drew  her  beauty  back 
to  the  shelter  of  his  arms,  with  a  long  sigh  he  laid  his 
lips  to  hers.  The  long  moments  passed  unheeded — 
they  had  both  forgotten.  At  last  she  stirred  in  his 
hold,  and  leant  her  head  back  again  on  his  heart. 

"  Now  hear  me,"  she  said. 

Through  the  silence  of  the  room,  in  the  safe  shelter 
of  his  arms,  she  told  her  story,  hiding  and  omitting 
nothing.  She  took  him  back  to  the  hour  of  their 
parting,  and,  with  her,  through  every  hour  of  her 
life  since,  till  that  hour  to-night  when  he  had  found 
her  in  Brabazon's  rooms.  And  he  did  not  interrupt 
her  once.  He  heard  her  straight  through.  Only  a 
low  murmur,  sharp  and  savage,  escaped  him  novr 
and  again ;  only  once  when  she  spoke  of  one  part 
of  her  life,  he  put  her  out  of  his  arms  and  got  up 
and  walked  about  the  room,  as  though  he  could  not 
rest  while  he  heard.  Only  she  saw  his  hands  clench, 
and  all  the  life  and  the  colour  die  out  of  his  face. 

"  My  God ! "  he  said,  when  her  voice,  weak  and 
tired,  died  away;  "that  six  months  should  have 
held  such  life  for  you  while  I — I — in  my  madness — 
Val,"  suddenly,  "  you  got  out  of  that  place,  you  came 
to  me,  thank  God !  Everything  is  clear  to  me,  and 
I  know  how  to  act.  Tell  me,  is  he  there  now — 
where  is  he  ?  He  has  escaped  so  often  for  Pat's  sake, 
he  shall  not  escape  again.  Hard  though  it  may  be 
for  her  .  .  ." 

She  stirred,  and  put  his  arms  voluntarily  from 
her  now.  He  saw  some  light  glow  in  her  eyes  that 

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NOR  ALL  YOUR,  TEARS 


frightened  him,  he  watched  a  smile  play  round  her 
pale  lips  that  was  a  terrible  revelation  to  him.  She 
stood  well  back  from  him,  and,  for  the  first  time, 
let  the  full  folds  of  her  white  robe — some  of  which 
she  had  kept  persistently  crushed  behind  her — fall 
in  their  natural  lines  to  the  ground.  Then,  following 
Wingate's  suddenly  horrified  eyes,  she  looked  down, 
it  seemed  to  him,  with  ferocious  satisfaction,  upon  a 
dark  spot  of  blood  that  stained  her  gown  just  below 
her  knees. 

"  He  has  escaped,"  she  said,  "  everyone  but  me. 
Don't  you  understand?"  looking  up  at  him  and 
laughing  gladly.  "I  killed  him  to-night,  after,  oh,  long 
after  you  had  gone.  I  knew  I  should  do  it.  When 
you  rushed  out  of  the  place  and  the  door  banged, 
I  woke  fully.  I  lay  there  for  hours — till  nearly  two 
in  the  morning.  Then  he  came  back.  He  was  not 
sober ;  he  told  me  much  of  what  I  had  already 
learned,  and  more  that  I  did  not  know.  He  mapped 
out  my  future  life  for  me  in  terms  that  I  will  not  tell 
you.  I  killed  him  ! "  again  with  that  joyous  uplifting 
of  her  eyes  to  his.  "  I  drove  the  knife  right  home 
to  his  throat  more  than  once,  and  I  waited  to  see 
that  he  was  dead.  Do  you  think  a  woman  couldn't 
do  it  ?  I  did.  I  flung  my  weight  on  him,  and  he 
was  not  sober  enough  to  have  strength  against  me. 
I  left  him  dead — dead !  with  his  brutal  insulting 
taunts  warm  on  his  lips  cut  short  in  his  lying  throat 
— and  I  came  to  you." 

"Val!" 

Her  name  was  choked  in  a  whisper.  Involuntarily 
he  got  up  and  locked  the  door;  instinctively  he 
gathered  up  her  gown  where  the  blood  stain  was, 
and  wrenched  the  piece  away,  and  flung  it  into  the 
heart  of  the  fire. 

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NOE  ALL  YOUR  TEAES 


"  You  must  come  away,"  he  said  hurriedly.  "  We 
must  not  lose  an  instant.  Already  it — they — 
discovery  may  have  been  made.  Good  God !  How 
can  I  get  you  from  here  at  this  hour  in  those  clothes, 
without  drawing  attention  to  you  ?  My  darling, 
help  me — think  for  me ! " 

She  crept  into  his  arms  that  he  suddenly  threw 
out,  and  turned  her  face  with  a  little  tired  sigh  to 
his  breast. 

"  I  couldn't  travel  a  yard  to  save  myself/'  she 
murmured,  smiling  up  at  him.  "  Don't  try  to  take 
me  away — they — they — will  never  find  me " 

"This  is  sheer  madness — you  don't  know  what 
you  say.  Val,  for  my  sake " 

"  I  killed  him  for  your  sake,"  she  said  dreamily, 
all  the  strength  and  life  seeming  to  leave  her  limbs 
and  voice  in  one  moment.  "Let  us  forget — the 
time  is  so  short.  Put  me  down  over  there,  and  sit 
beside  me." 

"Val,  listen.  You  are  weak,  ill,  I  know;  but  if 
you  will  only  trust  to  me,  and  do  as  I  bid  you,  I  can 
get  you  away  from  here.  At  this  hour,  in  this  storm, 
there  are  few  about.  I  know  where  I  can  get  a 
motor  .  .  .  Have  you  the  courage  to  stay  here  while 
I  go — there  is  no  one  but  my  servant  in  the  place — 
I'll  lock  the  doors,  and  ..." 

"Not  now — don't  leave  me — I  could  not  stay 
alone — I  should  go  mad!"  with  sudden  wild  fear. 
"  If — if — they  find  me,  what  would  they  do  ? " 

Wingate  looked  about  him  helplessly;  he  answered 
her  with  a  suppressed  groan. 

"What  would  they  do.  Take  me  away?  Well, 
I  should  have  had  this  hour  with  you.  It  is  worth 
it  This  hour  together — it  is  our  own — let  us  for- 
get all  else.  You  love  me — in  spite  of  all — though 

281 


NOK  ALL  YOUK  TEARS 


my  hands  are  stained  with  his  blood,  you  love 
me?" 

"  My  life !  You  know  it.  But,"  desperately,  "  you 
are  driving  me  mad  with  fear — you  don't  understand. 
If  you  care  for  me  you  will  be  guided  by  me — you 
will  do  as  I  bid  you." 

"  No,  it  is  for  you  to  do  as  I  bid  you  !  This  hour, 
this  night  is  ours — ours!  Don't  you  understand. 
Keep  me  with  you." 

"My  heart — if  you  don't  let  me  take  you  from 
here  I  shall  have  no  power  to  keep  you  with  me." 

"For  a  little  while — a  little  while.  Look,  I  have 
been  ill  for  months ;  they  talked  of  a  delicate  chest, 
and  forgot  to  look  for  the  broken  heart  The 
strength  I  had  to-night  was  false — it  is  spent.  Give 
me  peace  and  the  shelter  of  your  arms  for  to-night 
— let  me  sleep  on  your  heart — I  am  so  tired,  so 
tired  ..." 

Her  eyes  closed,  her  head  fell  back ;  some  new  fear, 
a  fear  for  something  more  than  her  present  danger, 
took  possession  of  him.  He  bent  over  her  in  her 
odd,  heavy  sleep,  and  the  wild  passion  of  his  kisses 
roused  her  for  a  moment 

"Forget!"  she  murmured,  while  her  arms  fell 
limply  from  about  his  throat 

The  storm  had  worn  itself  out,  the  dawn  broke 
eastward.  The  world  was  no  longer  still  about  them, 
it  was  waking  to  life,  and  the  rest,  that  had  been 
everywhere  save  in  Wingate's  heart,  was  banished 
indeed  now.  He  looked  out  at  the  rosy  warning  of 
another  day,  and  held  his  hand  before  his  eyes  as 
though  the  red  light  blinded  him.  His  ears  were 
strained  for  sounds  immediately  below  in  the  street, 
or  at  his  own  door.  He  had  carried  Valerie  to  his 

282 


NOB  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


own  room  and  had  put  her  on  his  bed;  he  had 
watched  by  her  while  she  slept  a  little,  and  woke 
often  to  smile  into  his  eyes,  and  he  had  been  tortured 
with  the  certainty  that  she  needed  a  doctor's  advice, 
and  the  knowledge  that  he  dared  not  bring  anyone 
from  the  outside  world  to  her. 

His  servant  began  to  move  about ;  the  woman  who 
assisted  in  the  housework  arrived,  and  the  unfamiliar 
sounds  of  brooms  and  pails  forced  themselves 
irritatingly  upon  Wingate's  ears.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  the  hours  dragged  and  yet  flew  by. 

He  kept  the  door  of  his  room  shut,  and  the 
servants,  deciding  that  he  would  not  wish  to  be 
disturbed,  left  even  the  taking  in  of  his  tea  and  letters 
till  the  very  last  moment 

As  this  duty  was  just  about  to  be  performed,  the 
hall  door  bell  pealed  out  a  long  summons. 

Every  drop  of  blood  seemed  to  ebb  slowly  from 
Wingate's  heart ;  instinctively,  unconsciously,  he  came 
out  of  his  room  and  stood  with  his  back  against  the 
door  just  in  time  to  hear  his  man  saying — "  Lor'  bless 
me,  Mr  Wingate's  not  up ! " 

In  spite  of  this  information,  the  two  men,  who  a 
moment  ago  had  been  on  the  other  side  of  the  door, 
stepped  into  the  hall  and  closed  it,  one  pointing  to 
where  Wingate,  whom  he  knew  well,  stood. 

"  Good  morning,  sir.  May  I  trouble  you  to  spare 
me  a  few  minutes." 

Wingate  left  his  post  by  the  door,  and  conducted 
the  man  to  the  room  next  his  own. 

"  Blake  I "  he  said,  with  a  faint  tone  of  relief  in  his 
voice. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  Inspector  Blake  returned, "  I'm  glad  and 
sorry  that  it's  me — if  you  can  make  that  out  I  see 
you  know  my  business,  sir.  Mr  Wingate,  I  needn't 

283 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


tell  you  that  delay,  resistance  of  any  sort,  will  make 
matters  worse.  I'm  sure  you  understand  the  position 
too  well  for  there  to  be  any  need  of  me  telling  you." 

"  Why  do  you  come  to  me  ?  " 

Blake  made  a  deprecatory  gesture. 

"  Acting  chiefly  on  information  given  by  Lessing, 
the  murdered  gentleman's  servant — the  fact  that 
during  the  evening  you  were  with  Miss  Valerie 
Drummond  in  Mr  Brabazon's  rooms,  and " 

"  Sh  !  Speak  low ! "  and  Wingate  looked  towards 
the  dividing  curtains. 

"  Mr  Wingate — it's  early,  there's  not  many  about 
There's  a  carriage  waiting  down  below — you  and  the 
lady  ..." 

Wingate  silenced  him  with  a  gesture. 

"  Wait,"  he  said,  and  went  out  of  the  room  into  the 
next.  From  that  side  he  drew  back  the  curtains  and 
pointed  to  Valerie  lying  still  on  the  bed. 

"  Look,  she  is  ill — she  sleeps.  Wait — wait — a  little. 
By  God ! "  as  the  man  stepped  quietly  to  the 
bedside,  "  if  you  wake  her  in  fear  ..." 

0  Mr  Wingate,"  he  said,  while  his  voice  dropped  to 
a  hushed  whisper,  and  he  stood  with  low-bowed  head, 
"  no  one  will  ever  wake  her  again.  She's  dead,  sir—- 
and if  she  was  aught  to  you,  be  thankful  for  it" 


NOR  ALL  YOUK  TEAKS 


XXIX 

SUMMER  once  more,  and  summer  at  Dale. 
Miss  Angela  and  Miss  Hermione  Drummond 
seated  at  the  breakfast  table,  the  one  folding 
her  serviette  with  elaborate  care,  the  other 
picking  up  The  Times  preparatory  to  carrying  it  off  to 
the  morning-room. 

Her  eyes  catch  a  familiar  name,  and  with  a 
peremptory  gesture  she  detains  her  sister. 

"Listen  to  this,  Angela,"  she  says,  adjusting  her 
glasses  and  speaking  with  her  lips  drawn  tightly,  and 
the  hollows  at  her  temples  deepening,  as  they  always 
deepen  in  moments  of  extreme  anger  or  agitation, 
"  Listen  to  this — 

" '  On  July  23rd,  at  St  Mary's,  Eaton  Place,  Grenvil 
Delmar,  only  son  of  the  late  Sir  Grenvil  Delmar, 
Bart,  of  Delmar  Lodge,  Mitching,  and  Lady  Delmar, 
of  41 A  Portland  Place,  London,  to  Patricia,  widow  of 
the  late  Cuthbert  Brabazon.'  " 

"  Brabazon  !  That  was  the  name  of  that  horrible 
man  whose — death  that  misguided  girl  Valerie  was 
mixed  up  in.  His  widow  has  married  Sir  Grenvil 
Delmar  of  Delmar  Lodge  .  .  .  w 

"They  will  be  our  neighbours,"  adds  Miss 
Hermione  gaspingly ;  "  they  will  possibly  have  the 
effrontery  to  call  upon  us  or  expect  us  to  call  upon 
them.  Our  name  has  been  sufficiently  disgraced 
already.  Angela,  we  shall  either  have  to  leave  Dale 

385 


NOR  ALL  YOUR  TEARS 


altogether,  or  keep  the  gates  firmly  closed  in  the  faces 
of  all!" 

"  We  will  keep  the  gates  closed  in  the  faces  of 
all,"  decides  Miss  Angela,  dropping  The  Times  as 
though  it  were  hot  "  And  our  hearts  from  inclining 
us  towards  an  endeavour  to  befriend  anyone — in 
the  future." 


THE  EVB 


000  133275 


